

Class 


Book 



Goipght]^?. 



.COPYRIGHT DEPOSTT. 








D’ARTAGNAN, THE KING MAKER 


J 




1 


D’ARTAGNAN 

THE KING MAKER 

AN HISTORICAL NOVEL 


BY 

ALEXANDRE DUMAS 

t f 

AUTHOR OF 

*^THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO/’ “THE THREE MUSKETEERS,” ETC. 


TRANSLATLfJ^Y 

HENRY L. WILLIAMS 
» ? 



NEW YORK 

STREET & SMITH 

PUBLISHERS 


THE LIBRARY OF 
0ONGRESS, 

Two CoKiea Rtceiveo 

NOV, 4 1901 

Copyright entry 

iW- ! 

CLASS CO XXa Mo. 

7 - 0 

COPY C. ^ 


Cop)rright, 1901, 

By STREET & SMITH 


PREFACE. 


Dumas and ‘‘D’Artagnan!” 

The Inseparables! 

This banner-knight carried '‘the Extraordinary Au- 
thor’s” fame all over the reading world, and won homage 
through his favorite — everybody’s — and the most char- 
acteristic hero in noveldom. 

It was by the Gascon Free-captain, inextinguishable 
and ever-living in his native wit, that Dumas’ talent was 
displayed at the first flight. Bold, sustained and vigor- 
ous, all could trace to what heretofore inaccessible height 
and on what delectable ground it would lead us. 

As there is no historian more popular and more credited, 
and no novelist more historic, so his type and model of 
the Noble Adventurer, brave as his sword, steady as his 
aim, faithful to virtue as to his King, remains the chief 
admired and endeared to students as to his own chron- 
icler. 

In Louis D’Artagnan, "the Illustrious Dumas” (to use 
the King of England’s epithet) did what was accounted 
impossible: created a character. It was thought that 
times, pressure of men, compact with society, pinches of 
crises, these formed a man. But our originator was 
always modest — strange this in him termed plagiarist, 
monopolist, vainglorious! But let Dumas protest in his 
own words: 

"I am a humanizing and vulgarizing story-teller. Natur- 


II 


PREFACE. 


ally, and without pains, I am dramatic. My stories are 
first composed as plays, the opening clear, the end short 
and all interesting. Action ejects, shapes and animates 
my conceptions. A statuary and not a painter, 1 embody 
sooner than I sketch, model rather than paint. Disciple 
of the Realistic School, Shakespeare’s, Sheridan’s or 
Schiller’s, my characters are in fast dyes, not evanescent 
tints; they do deeds and do not maunder over them, 
prosing, poetizing or philosophizing. Hence, any actor 
can slip into my casts — Melingue was my D’Artagnan, 
the body to my phantasm.” 

Well, Dumas was unjust; for the more he is read — nay, 
the more intimately he is studied, the more consummate 
and imposing he becomes as a prodigy; clearness of the 
alabaster lamp, whose body lets the rays diffuse; taste 
true, because yours and mine, a woman’s or a girl’s, the 
idler’s or the toiler’s; what verve and fluency! the purling 
spring becoming rivulet, river, delta, ocean ! a mind that 
produces wholesome fruit, tart yet sweet enough, plenti- 
ful as the wild crab. 

As Raphael exclusively loved one model; as one fond 
head appears on all the marbles a sculptor carves, so 
D’Artagnan, cherished by his own literary father as by 
his own friends, reappears throughout the Dumas Gallery. 

In one he is chivalric, in another he may be modern; 
here, a play-actor; there, Coconnas marching gallantly to 
his doom; in peasant garb, our simple, honest Ange 
Pitou; in the age of plumes and starch, a beau; as 
"‘Yacoub,” Jealousy itself; as Dantes, the Avenger! but 
it is Dumas’ D’Artagnan, by a trait if not complete. 
Such a Proteus might well flag — but as Dumas was inde- 
fatigable, so is D’Artagnan revived on touching new 
ground. 

Such ground! The scene of “D’Artagnan, the King- 


PREFACE. 


iii 

maker," is unknown land — even at our later day! Portu- 
gal! the Peninsular! the great rival of Old Spain in 
conquering the New World. The European Hermit- 
Kingdom! It was a flash of genius which shot itself in- 
to this dark, mysterious corner, brimming with surprises, 
and revealed how much passion, courage, humor, and 
sterling virtues struggled from the tempestuous coast to 
the debated capital. 

But on this crude stone D’Artagnan sharpens his sword 
and his wit; he meets unaccustomed foes, but defeats 
them as if familiar with their attacks; he inspirits the dul- 
lards, he enchants the sluggards, he thrills the masses, 
and bears off the crown — to give it to the heir with that 
loyalty and self-sacrifice peculiar to the lion-hearted 
gentleman-of-fortune. 

Alone, his Quixotic Restoration of the Braganzas 
would be satiety of mental feasting, but allied with him 
in his exploits is the choicest spirit of the “Four Musket- 
eers”! Porthos! good Porthos!” whose rich humor, 
smooth patience, unfaltering friendship, and mighty fist 
make him so cheery that many a reader, divided in ad- 
miration and affection, cries, enraptured: “If I were not 
D’Artagnan, I would I were Porthos!" 

In the same way that Dumas’ devotees journey to 
Marseilles and scratch their names on the wall of “Monte 
Christo's” cell (that prisoner only existing in Dumas’ 
mind), so may we expect the readers of this engaging 
and instructive story to travel— in the spirit— along the 
course of its pages where the “Kingmaker" brings the 
true monarch to the audaciously recovered throne. 

Portugal, in this work, becomes another memorial to 
the vernal writer, a stranger now to no land, an idol 
to every appreciative reader. 


H. L. W. 














D’RRTAGNAN, THE KINGMAKER. 


CHAPTER 1. 

AVOID A NEW INN. 

In the middle of the seventeenth century, to the west 
of San Sebastian, on the Bay of Biscay, then a fortified 
port (and not a watering-place) of northern Spain, was 
a hamlet known ephemerally as Las Salinas. 

It was salty in every respect, but salt had failed to 
preserve it; on the contrary, salt had been its ruin. 

It was a cove beneath a highland, where the sea incur- 
sions had made a deltas — the point inland — and smoothed 
the finely-grounded granite sands into flats, furrowed by 
ditches as regular as if traced by human hands; these 
were salt pans for which Nature consulted no engineer. 

A fisfher, perceiving this advantage, had begun salt 
making on a fair scale, augmenting his plant by the as- 
sistance of his family, and finally his fellows in the craft, 
of which the Apostles were the patrons. 

Soon the growth of the little saltern was strengthened 
by disabled seamen, discharged soldiers, since the great 
wars were presumed over between Holland, France, 
Spain, Italy, Austria — aggressors, allies and combatants 
by turns. At the end came rovers, sea gypsies, not 
averse to a few days’ work where the alguazils and 
constables would not suspect them to be honest toilers. 

In time, Salinas gained a name. As the cove, though 
exposed to the very focus of storms, was deep in its 
channel, and the highlands partly shielded it, small craft 
dropped in. Petty fishers, sardineers, tunny catchers, 
and even the cod fishers, stopping to cure a catch, instead 
of going home, so that they could continue with the 
“buckalow” to vend on the African coast. They 


10 


Avoid a New Inn. 

eschewed Las Salinas on the return, but that was because 
they carried gold dust, ivory, spices and merchandise, on 
the whole above the Salinaists. 

Unhappily, fortune, in this world, attracts envy and 
covetousness. 

Little by little, more slowly on the land than on the 
seas. Las Salinas’ reputation spread until it had reached 
San Sebastian. 

San Sebastian, for the most part, was swayed by the 
class of which Virgil rhymed — they profit by others’ la- 
borious accumulations. 

The governor of the fort and town at the time was 
Don Nuestradamus Palliro, who, as pro-ruler for King 
Philip IV., then reigning, had a coast right to anything 
‘'cast up” by the waves, and, on the face of it, salt seems 
to be comprised in this elastic scope. At least, without 
consulting the Spanish Grotiuses, he meant to exact his 
toll. Hearing this, the champion knight of the good 
Sisters of Maria, Star of the Sea, remembered its claim 
on all sea produce; and what is salt but a production of 
the sea — a sort of skimming of that great open kettle of 
the Atlantic ? And, being asked to lend his armed 
marchers on a visit of inquiry to Salinas, the noble Don 
Esteban de Sagres, Lord of the Salt Marshes, considered 
that he had a special grievance, under the Crown, against 
any one manufacturing salt without each bag being 
stamped and sealed. 

In the last instance, while these gentlemen conferred, 
the Bishop of Catalona considered tithe was due him on 
this industry, since the fulness of the earth — and the sea 
— are the Church’s. 

In short, what with soldiers, javelin men, constables, 
gendarmes, all about their several captains and chief 
clerks, a formidable force dropped off the cliffs, as from 
the clouds, upon unwitting Salinas. 

Being gentry accustomed to spend their earnings as re- 
ceived, at the inn in their midst, which was mart, ex- 
change and refreshment hall, they were perfectly unable 
to pay any tolls and taxes, rightfully or otherwise de- 
manded. 

Whereupon the disappointed cohort seized the stoutest 


Avoid a New Inn. ii 

of the penniless saltmakers and talked of lugging them 
ofif as hostages for the cess required. 

Upon seeing their chiefs arrested, like so many 
brothers, the fishers, sailors, soldiers out of uniform, and 
the women of the hamlet, fell upon the strangers with 
uncouth cries of war in sea lingo and rural dialect, and 
beat them off. with oars, boat hooks, rudder staves and the 
like. The Spanish, in order to preserve their lives, were 
glad to leave the captives with their friends, consoling 
themselves with the last word : “They would come 
again and give the victors rue to mix with their salt 
cakes !*’ 

It is a fact that a true nomad “marches lightly.’’ 

Being men of the ocean firstly, and saltmakers sec- 
ondly, they made a pyramid of the tools of their tem- 
porary trade and set fire to it, after a preliminary bathing 
with tar; then they embarked all their families, house- 
hold goods and gods — if these pagans worshiped any one 
and on any day but that of the Good Thief ! — ^and, when 
the locusts returned with an army at their back, Salinas 
the Hale was Salinas the Wasted. 

To the devourers — burnt meat ! 

The inn ought to have remained, a large structure in 
oak and stone; that was counted on, but you must not 
count on your host or his inn. As by witchcraft, that 
only real building of the town had disappeared. One 
could discern the site, for the foundation stones and tree 
were there ; but the wood had been sawed off at every 
post, and the iron securing the stones against storms 
which would have made children’s building blocks of 
Trajan’s Column, had been wrenched out of the leaden 
sockets. As for the wine casks, said to be in its cellars, 
since your saltmaker is fabulously thirsty, there was not 
even a cellar ; all the contents had been hoisted out and 
the breeze had steadily played at filling it to the brim with 
a quicksand which almost swallowed up the explorers 
under the eyes of their companions. 

We say that this solitary shelter had been depended 
upon. 

The soldiers haa been promised it as a guardhouse, 
and the civilians reckoned on having a portion as a cus- 
tom house. 


12 


Avoid a New Inn. 

Arabs would have asked if this work was for the glory 
of Mahommed, and, if the answer were in the negative, 
would have burned the place ; these Christians meant to 
conserve the building, but to store away their levies in it. 

But it was gone, past preying on, or praying for — we 
quote a clerk who was facetious, but whose merry mood 
did not long continue. Indeed, there came on, while the 
soldiers were searching the district, one of those north- 
west blows, which sailors afterward describe as a “fresh 
wind,” but which landsmen remember as the worst tem- 
pest of the age. Such make the Bay of Biscay no pre- 
tender to the title of “Cemetery of the Atlantic.” Such 
depth have the waves that one expects to see the lost 
Atlantis’ inhabitants looking up at poor drowned man, 
and such force have the breakers that the spray covers the 
land for half a mile inward. 

This particular nor’wester was accompanied, or 
rather stripped from time to time by gusts out of the 
north, probably all the way from the North Sea, which 
brought sleet to mingle with the rain. The knights, cap- 
tains, monks, soldiers, mariners and clerks suffered a 
night of anguish in the desolation, so that, in the dawn, 
sneezing, coughing, wet to the skin, their armor rusty 
and their swords congealed in the scabbard, they strag- 
gled back to the port, disconsolate as if they had passed 
the time in purgatory without the time being allowed off 
their score. 

Thereafter, Las Salinas was accursed like the Dead 
City of the Plains, wihere Lot’s wife, incrusted with salt, 
stands at the gates. 

The fishers and smugglers procured their salt else- 
where, being far-roving persons, and only a very few 
poor ’long-shore roamers, with fishers who contented 
themselves with near-at-hand game, ventured to return 
to the deserted village. They scooped out burrows in 
the shifting sands between detached rocks, for their 
wives and children to thatch them with seaweed, while 
they sailed out where toll gatherers were scarce. 

It was, therefore, with surprise that a man, who must 
have expected to see this little Tyre in her majesty, 
reined in his horse after coming down upon the plain, 
once covered with snowy, glistening salt pans. He 


Avoid a New Inn. 13 

reined in his steed to that steed’s satisfaction, however, 
though it was one of those slab-sided, raw-boned, long- 
legged brutes, called, in France, '' clamp onniers” from 
“clamp,” that is, a heaviness of tread. In fact, this one’s 
big hoofs opened like a camel’s in the soft sand and en- 
abled him to get a foothold which had the one defect 
that he went in so deeply that he could barely draw it 
out, and when it came, it made a sound of suction like 
reports of a mortar. 

The man looked around and sighed, like one thor- 
oughly disenchanted — his illusion dispelled. 

He must have been furnished with a description of the 
spot before the beast descended and the people destroyed 
the village, as the Jews destroyed the Holy City to spite 
the Emperor Titus. 

It had been a hot day, and while he might be of cast 
bronze, having that complexion of southrons, baked 
from birth, and did not show fatigue, it was not so with 
his ugly mount. It did not care to move a step farther 
in the trying and fickle sands, so different a footing to 
the turf on the mountains. 

The sea was tolerably calm for this part, but it tremu- 
lously refreshed the long streakings of purple across the 
whitish golden glare ; by the tint, one could understand 
the Spanish discoverers calling platinum white gold. 

The illimitable swell softly rolled in with slow gran- 
deur, the deep just heaving as though Neptune, slum- 
bering in the wave-hollowed caverns, troubled the mass 
with his ponderous breathing. 

Only a few tiny sails dotted the enormous green ex- 
panse, like daisies on a well-tended pasture. 

All the fishers were out at sea. Their families were in 
their kennels, enjoying the sole luxury of the poor — idle- 
ness. 

The traveler had come over the inland, not the coast, 
hig!h along the shore, sloping down to it or rising 
abruptly, all the scene visible from below. 

With the melancholy of a stricken pine, a tall mast 
rose mockingly of trees like a gallows, for it had a cross- 
piece, the signboard of the vanished tavern dangling by 
a corner, one bent spike refusing to let go its hold. It 
was the stemboard of a rowboat anciently, which, per- 


14 Avoid a New Inn. 

haps, had been in civilized parts, for it was lettered in 
Latin characters, “The Black Petrel,” but the hanger of 
it at the inn front had probably judged the literacy of his 
neighbors justly in surmounting the line with a daub of 
asphaltum, representing a flying blackbird. 

“The Black Petrel,” read the stranger, if he could not 
recognize the delineation, “assuredly, I see the creature, 
but where is its nest?” 

He must have had excellent sight for, presently, he 
spied an all but invisible column of smoke, spirally ris- 
ing out of a hole in the overhanging cliff. This was one 
of those holes made by pressure of the sea in a mistral, 
when these outlets became “spouting horns.” 

It oozed out like a dying whale’s “blow,” fine as spun- 
drift. 

The air was dry, and the smoke almost instantly was 
dissipated. 

But the traveler could distinguish spray from smoke 
by another good faculty of his — smell. 

“Cooking !” he muttered, beginning to champ his mus- 
tache, as his horse had been champing his bit, “and on a 
generous system, I take it. There is conger, olives, 
onions, pork and I know not what in that mess. If it 
be but for one diner, then I have to meet a Titan in his 
cave. Certainly, the inn has withdrawn its kitchen into 
the solid earth. But why? I was not so badly misin- 
formed, after all ! There was a village, and there is an 
inn, though cramped up in the mountain.” 

He seemed to be one of those spirits, common to an 
earlier period, who went to discover and did not wait 
until another had preceded them and made a chart for 
guidance. 

He alighted nimbly in spite of the extremely heavy 
boots worn by riders, which would turn a musket ball, 
and unbitted his grateful horse. He was sure that it 
would not stray far, where nothing alluring presented, 
and that no one, a judge of horseflesh, would attempt to 
decoy it afar. So he walked, disembarrassed, toward the 
hollow of the bluff, with a firm and graceful tread, al- 
thoug'h the boots, with their other disadvantages, were 
a new purchase. 


Avoid a New Inn. 


15 

Such seasoned leather, soft as silk though thick, and 
good workmanship could only have come out of the 
workshop of a cordwainer of Cordovan training, where 
the tradition was maintained. 

His Moorish saddle was probably of the same origin. 

As he mounted the ascent, he perceived some signs ot 
a path. Bare feet and bark-soled sandals had traced it. 
It led him in under the beetling barrier to the sea’s con- 
tinual encroachment, the sides of spar fretted intricately 
and fantastically to equal the finest efforts of the artifi- 
cers of the Alhambra. 

“ ’Sdeath !” exclaimed he, with Spanish accent forti- 
fied with Gascon, '‘this is the inn. Faith of a gentleman ! 
have we the Northmen scourers of the sea again upon 
the rocky coast of his majesty of United Spain and Por- 
tugal, that even that hallowed institution, the tavern, 
respected by German riders and Italian bandits, should 
shrink with terror into the granite ?” 

As if to prove how wrong or right was his surmise, 
there darted a man out of the opening and shadow be- 
yond, who blocked his way, but hospitably. For he 
opened his arms and his hands in that gesture which 
signifies in that latitude that all that the house contains 
is at the order of the person motioned to. 

It was a host, w’hether the opening was an inn door or 
not. 

Accustomed to the dusk, the traveler looked over the 
man’s head, the more easy as he was short, and distin- 
guished a rough inner portal of ship oak, fit to resist 
a battering-ram ; and, beyond, the beginning of a corri- 
dor, wide, or a room, narrow, prolonged by the obscur- 
ity, into indefiniteness. 

For a fitting description of this cavernous hostel, one 
would have to search “Ossian.” 

There was an attempt to light up this vast interior : a 
ship lantern swung on high under a stretch of canvas,' 
supplied with oil, and that less strongly smelling. Sev- 
eral candles, certainly such as are made for churches, 
were stuck in cnacks on the rocky wall. All these rays 
fell on a table, evidently from a great West Indiaman, 
since it was of mahogany, not well known to European 


16 


Avoid a New Inn. 


cabinetmakers ; it 'had benches around it, carved by sea- 
men’s knives; on it were miscellaneous articles, silver 
and pewter drinking vessels, some ecclesiastical in as- 
pect, others adorned with arms of high families, whose 
representatives probably never honored the Petrel ; 
Bohemian glasses, curiously delicate in such a rough 
place ; Dutdh and Flemish mugs, German cups and 
pitdhers, English jugs. 

A capacious brazier in the Moresque style held glow- 
ing charcoal, but the chief culinary shrine was a wood 
fire on an enormous flat stone, from which, up the nat- 
ural chimney, floated that column betraying the modest 
nook of the Petrel. 

This steady light showed also a terra-cotta image of 
a saint in Sevillan pottery, highly glazed, probably 
female, as there had been attached to its base a strip of 
parchment in Gothic type, appealing to one. 

It was the stock curative cure of this marshy ground, 
no doubt, for its lin^s might be thus translated : 

"Charm of St. Agnes to dispel the shaking fever. 

Tremble and go ! 

(First day, shiver and burn!) 

Tremble and quake I 

(Second day, shiver and burn!) 

Tremble and die ! 

(Third day, never return!)’" 

A similarly saintly image, but in rougher work, and 
dyed instead of being glazed, had these words incised 
on it, and filled up with burnt rosin to make the old 
English text apparent : 

“This be Sint (sic) Dennis, to me dear, 

For love of drink and, eke, good cheer!” 

Doubtlessly these objects were precious and 'had been 
transferred from the original inn when its removal was 
decided upon. 

Over the hearth fire, by an old anchor chain, swung by 
a pulley hook, as used to hoist a whale up for cutting oflf 
the blubber, such an immense iron pot as slave ships 
had in order to cook as much porridge as possible at one 
heat. 


Avoid a New Inn. 


«7 

If it had been full, it would have contented a regiment. 
As it was, more than the bottom was covered with a fish 
stew, mingled with vegetables such as seaside heights 
supply, but not in variety or delicacy. 

“So, this is the Petrel’s Nest?” said the traveler, half- 
w‘himsically after surveying the picture, delightful to a 
Teniers or a Zurbaran, for its appeals to the gross senses 
and its light and shade. 

He might be testing his host, for he spoke in Portu- 
guese. 

The landlord replied, after the same furtive manner, in 
Cantabrian, that ancient tongue of which it has been 
said none but the natives can speak it, and they with 
difficulty. 

To redouble the astonishment at having a gentleman 
guest, the speaker was startled to hear the reply in this 
same mode, and more fluently than in Portuguese. 

“Then, I come to an anchor!” He sat astride of a 
bench, easily enough, and demanded : 

“Your name?” 

“Pedro. Sailors from the north, as I am not tall, call 
me Bitts, likening me to the two Samson-posts which 
secure the anchor cable, or the hawser is snubbed 


“Then, Master Pedro Bitts, see that I have a bit for 
my teeth 1” showing perfect ones under the black mus- 
tache. “I am the long-looked-for guest of the Petrel.” 

As if he fully understood these tyrants of the roadside, 
even when there was no worn road to their abodes, he 
slapped his side where, from the chink, he carried a 
pouch well lined with coin. 

As if this sound were almost unknown, the host waited 
to hear the echo before hurrying, with a broad smile, 
into the depths, but beckoning the other to follow. 

First, the traveler looked back, not from any apprehen- 
sion — Heaven forbid such a jolly fellow excited that 
emotion — ^but to see how his ungainly steed was faring. 

The inestimable clamponnier had stumbled along the 
ledge with a sea-footing, stuck a hoof into a fishskin 
and, thus slippered, reached the first hovel. Here, after 
a sniff, and concluding, with the fine epicurean taste of 
his species, that the maritime thatching was edible,, he 


i8 Avoid a New Inn. 

began to strip it off. A couple of brown children at once 
jumped out and stared with spelUbound eyes at this crea- 
ture, which bid fair to eat them out of house. 

“I see that Plegon has made himself at home in 
Salinas,” observed his master. “So be it with the rider !” 


CHAPTER II. 

THE PETREL CHANGES HANDS. 

The fearless wayfarer plunged into the passage of the 
obscure den, fit for serpents, hermits, bandits and those 
ogres w'hom the common people believed to occupy sub- 
terranean refuges. 

On reaching the middle of the cavity, he saw that it 
was roomier than suspected from the exterior. Indeed, 
it was a hall of which the stretched canvas, an old main- 
sail, was the velarium, cutting it into two stories. It was 
so blackened with smoke that he had not reckoned the 
extent. At one corner a ship’s wooden companionway 
was used to ascend to this upper floor. 

In another corner, the two tops of a clumsy ladder 
come up through a hole, suggesting the wine vaults, since 
a vinous aroma permeated the stagnant air. 

Odd bales and casks encumbered the sides, being used 
as seats and lounges when the company was numerous 
— evidently a rarity ! but there was nothing for the 
timorous to take alarm at. 

The host and he stood before the only other tenant. 
This was a very strong and stout negress, to whom 
Pedro, sturdy as he was, looked boyish and slight. She 
was of Nubian blackness, not the warm brown of other 
negroes, but unshiny jet. She had a ladle with which a 
pond could be baled out or a bull be stunned. With 
this, as if proud of her mess, she began to stir the kettle 
swiftly to set the newcomer’s mouth watering. 

'Tt is the 'slow-boiling fish stew’ of Marseilles,” ex-, 
plained the host. “It is fish, fish and fish to us here every 
day! I wish I could take a week off and go into the 
country, where there would be nothing but meat and 
fowl, for a change I” 

“Well, I came from ‘there, and I shall enjoy this very 
much.” 

Convinced by this that he had an easily-contented pa- 
tron, the man waved his hand in encouragement to his 


20 The Petrel Changes Hands. 

cordon-hleu, and busied bimself with the other prepara- 
tions of the meal. He set one of those loaves on the 
table, common where bread is baked at one time for a 
fortnight, flanking it with a knife so broad as to lead it 
to 'be supposed a portion of a scimeter ; salt in a silver 
reliquary, chased with sacred emblems and a dedication to 
a saint; two kinds of pepper in a calabash, divided by a 
pearl shell, and silver plates, massive and sculptured as 
works of art. 

The table had no cloth, but the scarce and beautiful 
wood, defying the sailors’ whittles, was smoothed and 
polished by grease and bare arms, so that it was bright 
as a mirror. 

Taking down one of those high flagons which have 
gone from vogue since toping went out, he dived into 
the hole down the ladder like a powder-monkey into the 
magazine. In the hollow, he could be heard singing in 
a mellow voice: 

"And some are wrecked on th’ Indian coast. 

Thither by gain invited ; 

Some are in smoke of battle lost, 

Whom a dance and lute delighted !” 

Although the flagon held a runlet’s eighteen gallons, 
he lugged it, frothing over, up the ladder like a puff of 
eider-down; that he had broached a cask the guest had 
heard, with ravishment, it gurgled so rapturously. 

The negress had braced herself by tightening a yellow 
zoner, or belt, which Christians are compelled to wear in 
a Mohammedan country; she put forth a strength which 
she might not be suspected of, and tilted the great kettle 
over so as to spill some of its delicious medley into a 
ewer of gold, and carried this to the table as if it were an 
egg on a plate. 

'‘The sky bless you all !” This seemed to be her con- 
ception of a grace. 

Instantly the air was transformed. What one had in- 
haled of a balm superior to Gilead’s was but a mean fore- 
taste of the perfume overwhelming the space. The guest 
clapped his hand, like those voyagers, who, sick of the 
bilge, tar and wet sailcloth odor, rejoice at the off --shore 
breeze from the spice islands. To be so enlivening, and 
at the same time so soothing, was a triumph of culinary 









-- •\ 


• 9 




r; ■ 


* « tf 


< ' 1 


^ • 


.*» 


♦ . ' 


'>4 


IV *• 

^!. 


f / 




^;;v 


-% % 


^ ♦ % 


- ^ ^ '4 0 

r • • ^ M 

* 


« t 


s f 


,.'l 

/. .. 


' * '^r 

'\nf* 


% 


!>>.■ *1 ‘ I • 


\ « 








V* 


, .- . -A N J» 


• ' 


•* C 




t • 


1 ^ ^ . • ‘ * 

: * .' - I* * 

' , ' . * . * 
f *r.s 


,• . 4 '» - 

, , %■ . u. 

' ■ -vv* • 

.,' i » .1 »• V . • * • 

' ' *4 


.' * 


't,' ^ 
^ • 


* V ■• > 


t • 


I A. t 


' 'M 


I • • I 

I % 






• ^ 


•*:f * * • 


kiM 


4 • 

A’ • .-!« A. 




. ‘ M / 

% 


* 



• t 

A 


^ -i* 




# %' 






« • 


V>.v. 


v -v,; 






k. , ♦ 




i: 


♦ * 

V , • L I 4 J 


1 » ^ 

' . , • ‘ ' .. V 

- A ^ I 

* . ■ # \ 


t • 
1 


• \ 


I ». •- 


• 1 



iS‘ • 




« 




■ 


» * ft » • 

% 

> > 


1:: 


•\ 


■■ "U',.':' . 


■ W. 

V •'. ' " • ’'-V''*' 

■k‘ • 


y' ♦ 

• * 


# * 


. 0 , 




• / W f 


« « 


• i 






I i/ 


* 


•^0 ll • 

• • 

0 


Uj _ 


1. 


■ w 

. .< 

V • 


* » 


' / 


• I t 

k 


\ 
9 « 


^ I 


JJ 

^ • 1 





21 


The Petrel Changes Hands. 

harmony ; each contribuent component to this programme 
was distinct ; pork fried before it was associated with the 
other ingredients, fish of all sorts, sweet and bitter herbs, 
onions and their fierce brother, garlic ; these blended into 
the supernal hodge-podge. 

The guest stretched his rather long arms as though, 
metaphorically, to embrace the delicious dish, seized the 
loaf like his dearest foe, and with the shortened scimeter, 
sliced off one piece for a sop, another to eat and a third to 
wipe his spoon on. He was supplied by precaution with 
one of those comprehensive instruments, embracing, in 
one handle, knife, spoon and fork, which the Italians in- 
vented and which other nations were slow in adopting. 

The negress knew what a fork, a spoon and a knife 
were, but never had she seen persons eat with them or 
hold them in combination. She followed their move- 
ments, which were not slow, with the eyes of one watch- 
ing a conjurer’s wand. 

The traveler used the spoon so quickly that the host 
felt enforced to apwDlogize for him, while secretly admir- 
ing such prowess and compliment to his chefs abilities. 

“He comes from afar, and from the island where they 
open oysters with pitchforks! Again, these tall blades, 
they are hollow to their boots I” 

Twice only in ten minutes did the amateur of fish stew 
stop ladling it up, which was to cool his peppered tongue 
with a copious draft of the wine, not homemade and 
keenly sour; also he partitioned off these drafts with 
gobbets of the bread, made of Indian corn from Africa, 
since the natives, indolent about tillage, preferred to im- 
port such breadstuff rather than grow wheat. 

At last appeased, and only spearing a bit of fish here 
and there in the tureen, he leaned back, with his shoulders 
against the wall, and assumed the attitude of one who — 
the main piece of life’s business over, next to sleeping — 
thought of less carnal matters. 

The host, who had been admiring his prowess as a 
trencher-man, changed his expression to a judging one. 

He scanned a man in the first prime of life, that is, 
about thirty years of age. He was dark brown, with 
golden-bronze reflections on the cheekbones and other 
sharp proturbances. He had not a wrinkle, but he was 


22 The Petrel Changes Hands. 

•W'eatherbeaten from snow as well as sun. His sable hair 
and beard were trimmed close, as if to wear the morion, 
still used by some prudent warriors. His mustache was 
also cropped to prevent its being entangled with the steel- 
cap chin strap, on occasion, or a bedrabbled plume. 

He was compactly built, rather muscular than bony; 
rather sinewy than nervous, but a bunch of vitality slept 
under the hardened skin, prompt to be called into action. 
His cheek was tanned, and his hands blackened, as be- 
came a traveler out of the south. 

Sober was his dress, unidentifiable when nearly every- 
body wore habiliments denoting a profession, a craft or a 
class. The cotton velvet was cut for him, full where 
movement was wanted untrammeled, and the embroidery 
was real threads of gold, though delicately done. His 
trunk-strings were leather, for wear ; his hat, feathers of 
a rare African bird, but short. Although an excellent 
rider, his boots were not too elegant on straight legs, not 
yet bent by the horse’s barrel. 

Gold spurs and the fine rapier denoted the gentleman — 
although all except merchant, muleteer, shepherd, miner 
or peasant, put on spurs and carried a sword. But it was 
one thing to carry a sword, another to wield it ; by the 
wrists, somewhat enlarged, and the biceps of the right 
arm, one might conclude that this was a long-exercised 
swordsman. 

His nose was sharp and eaglelike; such are predestined 
men of war ; his mouth was firm, but he could smile, and 
winningly. His eyes were black diamonds, almost insup- 
portable in their piercing glance, when fired by great 
feeling. 

Withal, that strange commingling which made what we 
call an all-round gentleman of action ; captain on the land 
and on the sea; indifferently presiding, by order of his 
king, or that of his whim, on poopdeck or charger’s sad- 
dle. 

In vain did this human gamecock assume, as now, a 
peaceful position — even a civilian less expert in judging 
men than a landlord, knew it was a leader. 

Equal to any fortune, these men wore ascetic garb, or 
court insignia, steel in the camp or counselor’s robes, 
drank the rinsings of the buffeted ship’s water cask, or 


The Petrel Changes Hands. 23 

the finest wine in the court favorite’s boudoir. No one of- 
fended them, for such mig'ht rise on the morrow far above 
their highest flights. 

Surfeited, the guest ceased to play with the tidbits. 
This seeing, the host, who had not for a moment thought 
of sitting unasked, leaned half familiarly on the table 
edge, under pretense of refilling the cup. 

In his turn, the gentleman scrutinized his boniface. 

He saw a man of the typical Portuguese, rather than 
the Spanish race; neither Catalan, Celtiberian nor His- 
paniolian — just Portuguese. 

Short to ungainliness, thickset to clumsiness, but agile ; 
tigerish in spring, when aroused; brave to rashness, firm 
as a rock in opinions or duty ; honest, to his fellows, at any 
rate; a good neighbor, if you were his kin; prone to 
form sudden friendship and as sudden enmities, not to 
be blunted this side of the grave. 

More intelligent than he wanted known, Pedro had a 
deep wit, sharpened like the carver on steel by frequent 
frictions. The foes of the lower grade were innumer- 
able — tax collectors, beggars of all kinds, begging 
priests, petty lords, extortioners who were like those 
mites that bleed fowls to death by their numbers, if in- 
significant individually. 

He was one of the past century, who followed cir- 
cumnavigators to the confines — cool under the tropics, 
merry in the Arctic Circle' — combating, as if everyday 
dangers, though perfectly novel, the cannibals, mon- 
sters of sea and woods, savages like those of the ancient 
chroniclers; never flagging, never awed and never 
driven back. 

Returning home, these ‘'demons of the ocean” tran- 
quilized their conscience by making peace with the 
church, at cost of half their hard-won treasure, and with 
the remainder settled down in their vineyard, or shop, 
or fishing boat. 

The more enterprising, like Pedro, occupied wayside 
inns, wanting but little life after so much activity. 

Strange — illiterate, dull, slow — such men made at a 
pinch good governors, like Sancho, at Barrataria. 

“Host Pedro,” began the guest, swallowing half the 
fresh draught of wine, “now that you, under Heaven, 


24 The Petrel Changes Hands. 

have given the journeyer a good supper, though the 
chief dish was without name ” 

“The English seamen, judges of eatables,’' returned 
the host, with vanity, “reckon that Quaqua, there, 
makes the best ‘chowter’ this side of the line!” 

“Chowder?” 

“It’s the noise a pampered child makes over the pap, 
and so does a man, surfeited with that fish stew, over 
the viscid, stringy, appetizing mess!” 

“ ‘Chowter’ is a good name,” responded the feaster, 
nodding. “The sherry is as sound as if squeezed from 
the grape, and your Edam cheese is a treat, after the 
goat’s-milk curd I have been using. Now, as the cap- 
sheaf to a good meal is a chat, what say you to some of 
that while your servant ” 

“Please your honor, it is my slave. I rescued her 
from the Morocco pirates, and glad I did, as she is a 
cook of the first quality. Chop One, as they say in 
Macao, thrown away upon eschewers of that succulent 
‘bird,’ the pig. Eh, Quaqua, Pedro master?” 

The blackamoor bowed submissively and grinned. 

“We talk, then, while your good servant prepares my 
bed — I should say, shakedown,” trying to conform his 
order with the ostensible resources of the Petrel. 

“We have a bed meet for a lord,” corrected Pedro. 

“So much the better, as I have been sleeping on my 
horse’s back, a bony one! or on straw in the inns of the 
south. All is one to a sleeper in the van-foss or the 
ground dried by the bivouac, as you may guess.” 

Before leaving the fire, the negress replenished it, and 
iit blazed attractively, with ship wood saturated with tar 
and grease and spitting out variegated flames, the trav- 
eler turned round to it and stretched out his boots to- 
ward its curling serpents. 

“How goes trade, Pedro?” 

“It cometh not in this direction,” said the man, bit- 
terly. 

ITien, as though the question had driven the spigot 
into a full-to-bursting cask, Bitts poured out the story 
of the rise and fall of Salinas, with the diffusiveness of 
those old-time historians who could not pass a battle 


The Petrel Changes Hands. 25 

without giving the speeches in detail of the command- 
ers on both sides. 

He gave with rude eloiquence the addresses of the 
captains, the monks, the goose-pluckers (tax-gatherers), 
and other enemies of the blotted-out community, and 
the replies of the injured settlers. 

“It seems to me,” said the captain of fortune; “that 
your last reply, though unspoken, was the most effec- 
tive; you removed the bone of contention from the 
hungry curs — that was pleasurable! Down with those 
worriers!” and he tossed off the heel of liquor. “This 
is what causes you innkeepers and salt makers to adore 
authority!” 

“And the Portuguese to adore the Spanish!” 

“Portuguese or Catalan, we all hate the oppressor, 
from the hireling who snatches the reals, to him on high 
who battens on the same.” 

“You have mistaken your calling. You are an im- 
prudent fellow, and no true host, who should be of no 
nation and censure none. It is all very well for your 
namesake on high to sift out those who would pass 
through his gate, but Pedro, the earthly, should not 
challenge his guests. It is time,” pursued he, with em- 
phasis, “that a man undestined to a landlord's apron, 
should retire to study a better course! What do you 
say, since I am one who rides straight at the Turk's 
head, to taking the vacation you lusted for? Let to me 
your inn for a month — say, for ten philips of gold; or, 
since you do not dote on the king's head on a coin, let 
it be gold moidores of the ancient Portuguese mon- 
arch s.” 

“Let my house ? Accept ten philips ?” 

“Undipped, unsweated!” 

Pedro plucked at his bristly chin, considering. But 
his slave, with the well-treated slave’s familiarity, and 
perhaps because she was consulted by her master, had 
no such hesitation or incredulity. She flopped down on 
her knees between the fire and the offerer of this mag- 
nificent hire, and proceeded to pull off the traveler’s 
boots, saying, without looking up : 

“Agree to the lord and master, Pedro.” 

“Of course, I agree! The house is a dead horse!” 


26 The Petrel Changes Hands, 

“What, do you not own it?” 

“I own this cave as much as any one, for the earth 
is the taker’s, I take it! But as for the title of the inn 
and its appurtenances, they come from the inn that we 
carted into this hole. I think that he who furnished 
the means to build out here has a claim on the prop- 
erty and good name!” 

The traveler did not argue. He knew what obsti- 
nate heads the Portuguese and Spanish peasants wear. 

“When we began the salt-making in a large way, the 
Brothers of the Coast, seeing its importance, asked the 
aid of their banker.” 

“The Brothers of the 'Coast! Their banker! Ho! 
Ho!” 

The exclamation might be caused by the pain of 
the wrench the woman gave on attacking the second 
boot. It sounded like satisfaction, however. 

“The Brothers of the Coast ; oh, we poor fishers, ship- 
men, shore-scramblers, from Cape de Verde to the Eng- 
lish Foreland, we have to be united to make a good 
breast against the elements and the land-teasers." 

“It is a copybook motto that ‘Small things grow by 
union!’ Approved, friend Pedro!” 

“When you see tw^o hands clasped, on a flag at the 
fore, it is ihe Brothers; and if you hear, ‘All for each, 
and each for all!’ it is the Brothers who utter it.” 

“A profound Christian invented all that!” said the 
guest, sighing beatifically, for the other boot was off. 

“On the contrary,” corrected the landlord, “it was the 
West Indian pirates invented it. Like them, we have a 
fund: Everybody pays in so much per head, and at 
stated times. We pension off a sick or wounded mem- 
ber, even as a king does his pensioners, only we use 
our own money! And we care for the dame and the 

kids. And ” here he hesitated, but the slave, who 

had picked up a pair of Morocco babouches and was 
warming them at the embers, nodded for him to go on 
fearlessly. 

“And we spend the money as we would our blood, 
look you! — to save our brothers from the navy ” 

“Of any nation?” 


The Petrel Changes Hands. 27 

''Oh, a seaman is an Ishmael, like him in Scriptures; 
every hand is against poor Jack!” 

“This is a harmless doctrine when you preach it on 
your deck; but on land, since the land belongs to one 
majesty or another — sometimes two or more claim it! — 
it sounds like treason!” 

Pedro flipped a flake of fish off his sleeve as if he 
cared but slightly for kings. 

“Well, since this union is no secret to those whom 
it concerns, the naval officers do not often call the mus- 
ter of a fisher of good size, our fund swells. And as 
Jack cannot keep a fat purse long, we decided on putting 
the pile in safe hands.” 

“You have been a sailor, eh? Well, in all your voy- 
ages, you may have come upon the phoenix, the roc, 
the vampires, and what not, but verily you have chanced 
upon the rara avis desiderata — the man who can safe- 
ly be intrusted with money ! Pray tell me, since I 
would like to impart the information to certain friends, 
what is he — a magician who scorns gold, an alchemist 
who can make it, a cenobite who does without it, a ” 

“To interrupt your lordship, it is a Jew!” 

“It is true, they have all the ready money in Europe!” 

“Faith, what with killing them off, what they hold, 
— and they hold it with a limpet’s tenacity, by the token 
— this same money is in fewer and fewer hands. So 
these few are protected, for who has so many friends 
as he who can benefit his friends ?” 

“Pbdro, the Innkeeper, you are Pedro, the Philoso- 
pher! You could give cards to Alfonso, the Wise, and 
come out winner!” 

“My lord, you cannot have traveled far in these re- 
gions without seeing that we have inherited from Moor, 
Arab and Egyptian, and they have wisdom. Men of 
pith, to repeat their sayings, is to become a sage! The 
accumulated cash being in our way, we made a stum- 
bling block of it to the Jew.” 

“I never tripped over mine in a heap!” 

Pedro laughed, and the negress, tenderly slippering 
the guest, grinned from one gold hoop, in which a par- 
roquet might swing, to the other, in her ears. 

“So we sea dogs, like dogs in office, have our banker. 


28 The Petrel Changes Hands. 

or, rather, bankers, for you know that, spite of the In- 
quisition, the Jews carry on business in Spain and Por- 
tugal. The banker of the Brothers of the Coast is one 
and yet is legion; he is Soleiman, of Silves, in Algarve; 
but he is Soleiman, of all over the two kingdoms, for 
one Jew is an atom, which goes to make up his whole, 
tribe. I can go to any Soleiman, make the sign of rec- ’ 
ognition, and be paid what I desire.’’ 

“Many a king, who would starve before he would 
partake of your chowter,” said the cavalier, “would de- 
sire a crop of your gold-bearing Soleimans!” 

“Well, falling behindhand in my dues to the Brother- 
hood, I had to provide them somehow. I mortgaged 
to Elizor Soleiman my inn, my fish boat, and my share 
in the salt works. Since I have done no business either 
as sial’tmaker or innkeeper, I am forfeit; the property 
accrues to him. It is fate, as the Mohammedans say; 
it is fair, say, as a Christian, and an old Christian, too.” 

“But here you have ten gold pieces!” 

Pedro looked at the coins without avidity. 

“That is a special godsend. I do not know that I 
shall turn it over to the fund.” 

“It is clear! You think thrt hiring the place is a 
prejudice to the lender on it? The Jew may come down 
and interfere with my enjoyment?” Here the cavalier 
luxuriated in suppling his feet in the slippers. 

“Eh, the rich Soleiman, of Silves? Ha, ha! Half Al- 
garve is signed away to him! He trouble himself about 
this scheme? This inn in the rocks? Besides, this is 
no season to travel ! He may be fond of money, but 
he would not brave the nor’westers, not for the rent of 
Lisbon Castle!” 

“I suppose not !” 

Pedro left him as if there was no more to debate. He 
went upstairs and the canvas-ceiling roof, though 
stretched over rafters of spars with seamen’s skill in 
scaffold-lashing, moved and sagged under his heavy 
tread. Presently he returned, cowered with a second 
suit of clothes, over which was a voluminous sailor’s 
dreadnaught, with a hood like a sentry box, and an oil- 
skin cap over a red nightcap. He was prepared, evi- 
dently, for the storms he spoke of. Throwing back the 


* The Petrel Changes Hands. 29 

outer covering, <he disclosed a broad belt of sbarkskin, 
enriched barbarically with beaten silver, in which he 
thrust the breadknife, and into a pouch appended he put 
the gold pieces. 

Thus accoutered, he strode to the doorway and looked 
out on the village and the sea, like a mariner who took 
no course without being sure of the weather. 

While gazing, he hummed a ballad which would have 
accorded with the buccaneers from whom the Brothers 
of the Coast derived their financial policy: 

“He that can kill a man, 

Murder and plunder precisely, 

It’s he is the man that does wisely! 

And may climb to a chair of the State 1” 

‘‘Some,*’ said the novice at the helm of the Petrel, 
“would not prefer a host singing such sentiments! Yet 
I doubt not, he is a good fellow! Perhaps, by the tail of 
his canticle, he is ambitious! Well, he may serve!” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE POWER OF A QUILL. 

In acquittance, the guest who had become host put 
a small gold-piece into the negress’ band, plump and 
ashy-grey in the palm ; she closed it upon it greedily and 
tucked it away with less reluctance than her master. The 
ex-landlord looked round too late to see this generous 
action. 

“You may be luckier in this hole than out there,” said 
he. “There is going to be foul weather.” 

“I will let you la room if you do not like the weather,” 
said the Gascon, humorously. 

“Well, if you are weather-bound for a week, you will 
have Quaqua for company. Upon my fist! I know not 
a defter hand at a tabor, and her thick lips were shaped 
for the flageolet. I fear that you 'will have no customers 
for a while. 

“You are wrong; I expect one visitor, at any rate. I 
am not likely to wait for any others.” 

“Lucky landlord ! had I had the promise of even one, I 
had not had those megrims which hinted that I ought to 
retire into the cellar and blow myself up with a cognac- 
cask I” 

He seemed to have waited for this announcement. 

“If any one comes for me, and I am out, taking the ex- 
cellent air,” went on the other, partly to the man, partly 
to the woman, whose comprehension he doubted, “he or 
she is to be housed and nourished with the best.” 

“You hear, Quaqua?” 

But the stranger was a man of precautions. He drew 
out of one of the boot-tops, provided with a pocket and 
(lap for a pocket-pistol, either of fire or of firewater, not 
a bottle, but a boiled-leather case containing an ink-horn, 
a reed pen and some paper, rolled up to occupy little 
space. Spreading a leaf of this on the table, he wrote a 
few lines with much study, as if no regular clerk. Ris- 
ing, he took advantage of the doorpost, from which the 


The Power of a Quill. 31 

fire heat had sweated the tar, and, using this as a paste, 
pressed the paper on it so that it adhered beyond the 
possibility of the wind removing it. 

Pedro shook his head ; as for the negress, she con- 
templated the writing like a witch’s spell. 

“May I live to be as fat as that cardinal who was 
called the Eighth Hill of Rome!” cried he, “but I shall 
not, then, read the inscription 1 May your visitor be a 
better clerk, or it will be thrown away upon him as well I” 

Thus indirectly appealed to, the writer read as follows, 
the same intelligence being conveyed in different lan- 
guages, but he Spoke in Biscayan, which was not there at 
all in characters: 

“Caballero Luis de Gannarta awaits you on the last day 
of February.” 

“Oh, I address the honorable Knight of Gannarta,” ob- 
served the resigned host, apparently taxing his memory 
without avail. 

“Exactly, the finest old house in the Vale of Tempe?” 

“Anan?” queried the puzzled sailor. 

“The erudite have disputed as to its site. Every pa- 
triot thinks it is in his land, as it is the most blessed of 
spots on the map ; but I, who am a Gascon, hold it to be 
in Gascony, and I will uphold it with my sword !” 

“Oh, let it be in Gascony! So your honor is a Gas- 
con ?” 

“A Black Gascon ! But the Black Prince of Darkness 
is not so heavily tarred as he is painted in church 
crypts !” 

Pedro grinned. 

“It is certain that if he were courting an earthly 
princess, he would not apply to a painter-priest for his 
miniature !” 

“Come, come! you may not be a friend of the priest, 
but you need not be that to the devil !” 

“My lord of Gannarta, that person and his legions have 
not done me as much harm in forty years as the nobility, 
the law and the priesthood in forty days ! There are liv- 
ing witnesses ! Gannarta — I knew a master of the Bar- 
celona Galley of six hundred oars who ” 

“A Gannarta never rowed in a galley, or commanded 
onel” 


32 The Power of a Quill. 

“Stay! that was a Gurnetta 

“A fisherman ought not to blunder like that ! A Gur- 
netta is a fish, while a Gannet — see our emblem over our 
great door arch in the Vale of Tempe — ^is the Wild Duck I 
I am solus of the Gannartas — ^numerous flock, but the 
wildlings meet their quietus early! Wellna-day! wild 
duck never laid tame eggs!” 

“But for so many lines, that says very little!” objected 
the observer. 

“That is true. I have written in several tongues, as 
you stick several hooks on your cod-line! I want to 
catch something. You see there few tongues, as they can 
be written by an unused hand. Spanish, French, Dog- 
Latin and, best of all, the frank speech ” 

“Sea lingo? Good! That is like the multiplying gun 
at Carthagena, work of a subtile Moor, which fires four 
or five times at once, or one by one, being so many bar- 
rels, lashed together ” 

Gannarta nodded, as though he had seen, or heard of 
this advance in artillery. 

“Still, why use four tongues to a person with but two 
ears ?” 

The man, at his ease, -did not seem displeased at this 
garrulity on the part of one who had not laid down that 
trait of the landlord with his office. 

“Simply because I do not know the nature of my caller, 
or his nation^ — whether man or woman, knight or base, 
seaman or landsman. So I write in French, in case he 
comes from the north or any court; in Spanish if he 
dwells near by; in Latin if he is clerk, or from Italia, 
nurse of colleges ; and in frank si>eech if he is better in 
mine eyes than knight, courtier, beggar or clerk — in 
short, a sea-skimmer — a Brother of the Coast !” 

The ex-publican grinned. 

“I will send you their custom,” said he, bowing and 
turning. 

The negress, in whose charge he left the new owner 
by a sign, executed one of those abject salaams which 
offer the whole to the master. 

Gannarto shuffled to the door in the slippers. 

The sky was part clouded, indeed. 


The Power of a Quill. 33 

Secure as to himself, the good cavalier thought of his 
steed. 

'‘In passing through the village,” said he, “will you 
order one of the urchins to stable my horse? He is bet- 
ter to carry than to lead, better to be thrown down for 
a breastwork than for a dinner, for it has come next to 
eating him in some of our tight corners ! By the way, 
where do you lodge to-night? You are never going off 
soundings under that threat ?” 

“In one of those boats drawn up high and dry. I am 
itching for the open blue. I shall go out there just as 
soon as one, returned, makes the next venture.” 

“Oh, if I shall see you again, off and on, this will be a 
desirable port!” 

Pedro doffed his outer cap, and said, half-apologeti- 
cally, half-coaxingly : 

“Master mine, if your honor seeks diversion while wait- 
ing for the unknown visitor, why not come out a-fishing? 
I promise you good sport!” 

Gannarta smiled as though the wind were blowing his 
wav. 

“I like to catch fish ; it was my boyish delight in the 
Gulf of Gascony ! But suppose, being green, I am 
caught !” 

“You, sir?” 

“You said that the naval officers — Dutch, French or 
Spanish — pressed men into their service. Now, I am one 
of those dogs who snarl at any collar but of their own 
choosing; and, as I am not, unhappily, a Brother of the 
Coast ” 

Pedro looked the speaker up and down like a recruit- 
ing officer for the marine. 

“I am' not going to dispute that if a man-of-war officer 
saw your honor on a fisher’s deck, through one of those 
Galle^o tubes ” 

“Galilean tubes — an Italian sage — don’t rob a man of 
his glory ” 

“Galilean tubes, by which the distance is brought down, 
he would order out his cutter and bid his crew row 
hard to overhaul your honor and carry him under his 
colors ” 

“You see! Better a host of the Petrel, even, than a 


34 The Power of a Quill. 

gunner or a topman on a fighting ship, particularly as 
it might not let me off a day to keep my tryst with the 
unknown !” 

“Bah!” muttered Pedro, evidently arguing with him- 
self. “A Gascon and a gentleman ! Less than that will 
recommend you ; besides, I may have lost credit with the 
money lenders without doing so with the Brothers of the 
Coast. Become one of us, and we will laugh at the 
press gang!” 

“Brother,” returned the cavalier, frankly but se- 
riously, “I laugh but rustily when I laugh alone. The 
more, the merrier my laugh! I will go fishing with 
you !” 

Pedro put on his hat, drew the hood over it, and said 
gleefully : 

“A good sleep ! I shall come for you !” 

As Gannarta felt his legs cooling without his boots, 
he hastily waved adieu, and hurried within the cave to 
sit close to the fire. 

The negress had waddled about to tidy up the den, and 
then sat down to her own meal of the boiled fish ; after 
which, not forgetting the wine, she went and sat down in 
a corner, out of the light, and, clearing a German spin- 
ning wheel, sihe proceeded to reel off a tuft of flax, sing- 
ing to the whirr an African song not more reassuring, 
to judge by the intonation and her gnashing of teeth, 
than the sea-rover ballad of Pedro. 

But, though the gloom deepened by the untended lamp 
going out and the fire burning low, the host was calm. 

“Death of my life !” muttered he. “I am consoled for 
my long and little fruitful exploration of old Lusitania, 
and the disappointment of no tidings from Paris, by this 
happy episode. A prospect of fresh fish for breakfast, 
which King Louis has not in his palace, and of being 
made a Brother of the Coast! In case that imperialist 
invasion is no longer to be dreaded, since they assassinate 
the generals of it, whom they cannot defeat, and we con- 
tend no longer with Spain upon the Pyrenees, who 
knows but our fleet, reconstructed by Cardinal Richelieu, 
may look for a diversion on the deep? Not always vic- 
torious, it may greet the reinforcement commanded by the 


The Power of a Quill. 35 

Chevalier Louis d'Artagnan, the flying squadron of my 
Brothers of the Coast 

Whereupon, the 'Chevalier d’Artagnan, alias the Cabal- 
lero de Gannarta, its anagram, finished deliberately a cup 
of wine which he mulled at the dying fire and spiced to 
his taste, and without wanting any usher, climbed up the 
steps Pedro had mounted. 

He found himself in the loft, with its canvas flooring, 
alone. 

Without probing with his sword the suspicious bales 
and bags about the room, he kicked several into a layer, 
reclined and stretched himself until a snug depression was 
scientifically formed, and was soon as fast asleep as his 
horse, in another niche in the cliff. 

As for the negress, she completed her skein conscien- 
tiously, as a diurnal task, raked the coals into a heap un- 
der the backlog, drew back the dried rushes so that they 
could not catch fire, and into another heap. In this she 
laid herself, with her huge feet to the ashes. Then, tak- 
ing out of her neck scarf the gold piece where she had 
rolled it up, she twirled it about between her fat fingers 
as a child would play with a doll, and went off to sleep, 
humming to this unwonted windfall. 

Verily, the wind had been tempered to the Black Petrel ! 
it had a golden lining to its nest ! 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE ATLAS. 

The end of the seventeenth century was distinguished 
by its quibblers, anagram-makers who played upon words ; 
there was also much playing upon swords; and, some- 
times, the two arts were combined in the same individual, 
as witness M. d’Artagnan, who had converted into Gan- 
narta his family name. 

But unless the reader, who would have divined this 
without hint, has an acquaintance with the reigns of the 
thirteenth and fourteenth Louis, he will not have the same 
perception of this gentleman’s character, employment and 
aims as that which these pages are intended to furnish. 

Louis, Knight of Artagnan, in that Gascony whose lively 
and boastful people have given the term of “gasconades” 
to extravagant stories, was, as he boasted, a black, or 
thorough old Gascon. His father, who inherited knightly 
spurs, had flashed his sword in the wars of religion, often 
charging side by side with his prince, Henry, then King 
of Navarre, another “little cradle of great men.” 

He retired, broken-spirited, on the assassination of that 
lamented and popular monarch. With that sword, and 
paternal recommendation to such brothers-in-arms of his 
as had thriven at the court of “the Green Gallant’s” son, 
Louis XIIL, young D’Artagnan had journeyed to Paris 
to commence, at the early age of eighteen, that career of 
officer of fortune, common to penniless springalds. 

Distinguished at the outset in the street brawls, only 
notable because the laws forbade them, while the princes 
■who wanted practised swordsmen encouraged them, the 
young man earned a reputation for premature coolness, 
superior handling of the sword, and prudence not often 
found in the southron. King and cardinal were ever at 
odds ; only, as the king had a younger brother, pet of their 
mother, who cherished inimical designs against him, he 
had to lean, at times, on his sole friend — ^the Cardinal 
Duke of Richelieu, Armand Duplessis. 


The Atlas. 37 

This prelate, the greatest of the several Primate-Prem- 
iers of France, “envied above and hated below,” was the 
Atlas who bore on his wearying shoulders, in 1640, the 
known world. 

Buckingham and Olivarez in vain tilted at him, and he 
had fended off the great captains, even a Gustavus Adol- 
phus, in the Thirty Years’ War, with consummate diplom- 
acy from that rich prize, France. 

It was because Richelieu was a soldier before he was a 
statesman. At the siege of La Rochelle, he had perceived 
military ability in D’Artagnan, though merely a subaltern 
in the Queen’s Lifeguards. He had secured his admis- 
sion into the Royal Musketeers before the defeat of the 
Huguenots and English was accomplished; and on the 
victorious return to Paris, he had appointed him captain 
commanding the Royal Musketeers. 

Proving worthy of this post, though it was far from 
presenting military opportunities, the court being one of 
intrigues, D’Artagnan was promised, on the creation of a 
Household Brigade of all arms, horse, foot and wall- 
guns, a renewal of the office, shelved since Montmorency, 
of Lord High Constable of France, preceding ever the 
marshals of the field. 

It was a sword of Damocles which did not fall. 

Bearing the delay like a courtier used to broken 
promises, and like a soldier a slave to duty, D’Artagnan 
continued to guard, not only the king and queen, but the 
prime minister. For recreation, as he would sarcastically 
say (sarcasm being the venting of chagrin in the bafflea 
courtier), he was allowed, with a company of Musketeers, 
to figure in the external warfare of the time. The over- 
running of Savoy, repulses of Spain, and stemming the 
current of the Imperial Invasion, in the French Period of 
the Long War. 

So it was that the man of thirty odd was an experienced 
soldier and captain, to say nothing of that diplomacy of 
the alcove and drawing-room marking the soldiers of the 
rule anterior to the minority of Louis XIV. 

But at last, at the close of the year 1639, the cardinal 
had one of those attacks which denoted a termination of 
his activity. It was followed by a renewal of his sagacity. 


38 The Atlas. 

foresigfht and daring, but bow long would the recovery 
hold good? 

This time the doctors would not foretell, and he was 
of the modern school of rulers who did not have re- 
course to astrologers. 

He called the captain of the Ro3^al Musketeers to his 
private 'study. 

With soldiers, the governor had always frankness, as 
far as be chose to go. 

“M. d’Artagnan,” began he, with that tenderness 
which he entertained, or at least manifested toward con- 
temporaries "of his brilliant days when he sought fame 
as a poet, a dancer and a singer, his model rather a Rizzio 
than a Strafford, “we have beaten back the Doubleheaded 
Eagle and the Lion of Castile. Each is preparing for 
another dash at us, but we must cripple them. France 
needs suspense from this incessant war — it must recuper- 
ate, also ! A young king may follow, and we know from 
the prophets what his reign will be.” 

“it is plain, my lord, that, for a space, there is nothing 
at home for soldiers to do.” 

“Right, not for those of your youth and unsapped ac- 
tivity. You should take the vacation so long merited.” 

“I thank your lordship, but never have I applied for 
leave of labsence. I am at home in the barrack or by the 
door of my king. My father, at the paternal fireside, is in 
good health for his age. My friends, retired from the 
army, are enjoying their reward. My pay is in arrears, 
it is true, and the long-projected project of a household 
brigade is still in abeyance — ^but I can live on a handful 
of gleanings, and your highness’ esteemed favor. I have 
not written in for a holiday.” 

“A servant of the realm must obey orders, to rest as 
well as to act,” returned the cardinal-duke, smoothing 
down his gray chin-tuft with his rare smile, which covered 
usually hidden meaning. “I desire you to repose — in an- 
ticipation of a busy time to succeed — in which you will 
succeed! all your wants will be filled — all your wits re- 
quired.” 

“In this case, your Eminence, I will most readily dbey 
and repose I” replied the young captain, taking the ball on 
the bound. 


The Atlas. 


39 

^‘Rest to you is not reclining on a couch — it is a change 
of exercise. You will take a jaunt. The route is of 
your own selection.’’ 

“I would rather leave it to your Eminenc®, as I do not 
have a world-wide correspondence ” 

“Well, as I advise perfect tranquility ” 

“The dream in the guardroom, between watches, has 
been perfect tranquility,” observed that plastic 
D’Artagnan. 

Richelieu turnd his stiff neck slowly and directed his 
gaze on a well-viewed map, almost covering one side of 
the study, with a humorous expression as if, on second 
thoughts, it were not so easy to indicate a spot, even one, 
not perturbed by his protracted efforts to raise his country 
into the first power. 

“But where, your highness, to find perfect tranquility ?” 

“Ah, that is like answering him who wanted to know — 
nearly seventeen hundred years agone, what is Truth !” 

Rolling his padded easy-chair on its castors to the 
wall, he laid the feather-end of his pen on a spot. 

Unlike the other portions of the chart, it did not bear 
many or any dent of the thumb nail, or dots of ink, or 
pricks of pins. 

“The Peninsula,” said the musketeer, in a surprise. “A 
Frenchman go into Spain for tranquility? Oh, your 
Eminence !” 

“F'arther ” 

“And fare worse !” 

“No, I point to Portugal.” 

D’Artagnan shook his head as to one who advised a 
voyage to the capital of Prester John. The fact is, at that 
time, Portugal was terra incognita to the rest of Europe. 

“Ah, I see that the wranglers in the Sorbonne were 
wrong in not pronouncing Portugal the site for the 
millenium !” 

“Not exactly as Parias preached it,” returned Richelieu, 
smiling like one who relished wit, especially in an unex- 
pected quarter ; “but by comparison -with the rest of Eu- 
rope, it will pass, my chevalier.” 

“After all, it is indifferent to me.” 

“Portugal,” said Richelieu, wheeling his chair back to 
its place before the table, leaning back^into the sumptuous 


The Atlas. 


40 

cushions and closing his eyes, as if, for once, he had no 
fear of a dagger being drawn on him, “Portugal is no 
longer the hery forge where were struck out and fash- 
ioned those men of iron who set out, like Jason, to con- 
quer the outer world, as passengers start daily for Or- 
leans or Lyons. What daring ship-prows, what heroic 
swords ! they left the unknown seas and smote those gold- 
bearing rocks which defended savages unwritten of by 
Pliny and Herodotus. 

“You will see her churches and palatial monasteries 
coated with gold, the mortar that binds the marble costlier 
than Parian, cemented with spice water, the images 
studded with precious stones, all wrung from tough and 
poisonous claws, but brought home with the black and 
red kings who contested their disposal, slaves to help in 
that building. Her discoverers, adventurers, sea kings, 
merchants, traders — you will see nothing but their tombs 
— and unless the Portuguese are different in memory 
from us, those tomhs neglected — unfindable !’' This a 
passing pang. 

“Some fifty years ago, it was absorbed by Spain, and its 
independent spirit quenched in blood. Time was when a 
conquered vassal gave no trouble for his life ; so, his gen- 
eration ; but the grandsons alone, having time to feel the 
old impressions revive, and the dread of the victor de- 
cline — these raise their crest! Now, Portugal should 
quiver with the throes of producing a native deliverer. I 
have questioned those who ought to be well informed. 
They all say that Portugal is placid as the carp ponds at 
Fontainebleau.” 

“My lord, the rustics say — and I have learned a great 
deal from rustics, who arc a store of past wisdom, if not 
of new ideas — that a river is still because either very dry 
or very deep.” 

“That is it. My informants may be superficial. 
Hence, I would rather rely on a non-prejudiced observer, 
who goes fresh to his mission, who is loyal to his king, 
and the good of the realm. All the more so as he never 
swerved to pick up the crumbs of the table, or served for 
them. You may have seen a picture in my gallery, by a 
Florentine, named — tut, tut, the name — it escapes me — 
but the picture is in my eyes as in his who painted it, ‘The 


The Atlas. 41 

Good Servant,’ of the Holy Writ, who served while only 
waiting 

‘‘Faith, your grace, it is harder serving when one has 
the knife and the itching to carve !” said D’Artagnan, sig- 
nificantly, albeit, with his feigned bluntness. 

^ “So, it is understood between us ; you take your vaca- 
tion in Portugal, where you will not be disturbed by ac- 
quaintances. As for strangers, I hear that there even 
the alms-cravers are marked for courtesy.^’ 

“My lord, I am the last person to pick a quarrel with."’ 

“At least, those who have done so were the last to do 
it.” 

“I shall visit Portugal,” said the musketeer, as if the 
premier had selected the object of his devotions in the 
Holy Land. 

“If in studying her orange groves, vineyards and an- 
cient battlefields where the Saracen was driven back, you 
find that my quidnuncs were not capable nucios, why, be- 
hold one glad to alter my opinions on recreation parks. 
I will rule out my ideal Portugal from that map ! Alas ! 
I have left but few areas where, when I retire, I can raise 
my cabbages !” 

“My gracious lord, I am ready, for the first time in ten 
or twelve years, to take a furlough thrust upon me !” 


CHAPTER V. 

TO PORTUGAL. 

“Captain mine, you will therefore proceed to Portu- 
gal by your own road,’’ pursued the minister of the 
King, “in your own disguise, at your own pace. Take 
time, and do your business well. You have six months’ 
leave. Only, as next year is Leap Year, and should be 
easily remembered, there will be a messenger call for 
you at a rendezvous long since jotted down. There is a 
pretty fishing place on the Bay of Biscay, frequented, if 
frequented, by smugglers, masterless soldiers and ship- 
less seaman. It is under the weather of San Sebastian, 
but unseen from its insignificance by its lookouts. It is 
called by those who know it, the Black Petrel.^’ 

“If it please your highness, the Kuril, its local and 
seafarers’ name, is a bird which has some peculiar sig- 
nificance to them. I have known the fishers of Gascony, 
who would not kill one for the world, carry one, found 
dead, in their caps as proudly as a knight carries his lady- 
love’s glove.” 

• “I agree that it may cover an occult meaning. Do you 
know the Biscayan coast?” 

“My lord, as a neighbor. I am a Gascon. I have been 
blown out to sea, when a boy, and have had to bide my 
time for the return with those who picked us up. I 
am, as you see me, no strange fish in those waters, from 
our Gulf to the Gib.” 

“So much the better,” said the statesman, never con- 
ferring with a man on affairs without having looked up 
the notes his secretaries preserved of every one of note. 
“Since you learnt French so soon and elegantly, I sup- 
pose that you have the facility of tongues ” 

“I am not like that ancient king who could talk with 
any of his numerous peoples ; but my budget will serve 
me. The Emperor Charles V. said that a man who 
spoke five tongues was equal to five men. I am, there- 
fore, a sextuple man, since I can ask for bread, bed and 


To Portugal. 43 

drink in six, namely, French, Gascon and its allied dia- 
lects, Spanish, German, Italian and tlie seaman’s odd 
lingo.” 

“I see that while others in our outlandish campaigns 
picked up earnings, you picked up learning,” said the 
statesman, yielding to the punning propensity whioh 
great men indulged in, singular to a later breed of critics. 
“I foresee that you will, from a conversational point, 
enjoy your turn-out-to-grass !” 

'‘But I am ignorant of Portuguese,” concluded D’Ar- 
tagnan. 

“The upper class use Spanish as the court language. 
The clergy, Latin. The common orders, close and 
dogged, says my Secretary Crosnier, like the Atlantes 
in all lands who support the high stories, use but five 
hundred words as a current vocabulary.^’ 

“My lord, in three months, I will hobnob, then, with 
Goodman Jose Like his oldest 'boon companion.” 

“P'or the last time, good ! I know you are the same 
on hill as in hall. Will such a lazy saunter be costly?” 

“Your eminence, when the wheel is well greased, the 
cart goes farther. Moreover, the ungreased wheel calls 
attention by its squeaking.” 

“You shall have no stint. Show this signet of mine to 
my treasurer or the king’s, and draw whatever you deem 
sufficient. When, on the last day of February next, you 
are at the Petrel, my messenger will supply you freshly 
and to any amount for the enterprise for which you, my 
captain and trusted friend, consider Portugal a favorable 
field.” 

Not often had Richelieu called one his friend, less 
often his trusted one, and rarely shown what was his 
friendly trust by allowing him to carry out a project of 
his, practically on his own impulse, with unlimited funds. 

D’Artagnan bowed, with moisture about his eyes. 

“Oh! I am well aware that gentlemen of the sword 
despise the purse, which has its potency, believe me. Is 
there not an olden couplet as the tag for it? Let me 
see? 

** ‘It is the sword doth order all ! 

‘It — it — mum-mum-mum ” 


44 To Portugal. 

“ ‘Makes peasants rise and ’ ” here the corrector 

Stopped at a pretendedly hopeless cast. 

“ ‘And princes fall !’ continued the prelate, steadily. 
“That treasonable utlook was — now, the purse may 
brain a man, if full, md the strings strangle him, if 
empty. I speak metap'iorically.” 

“The purse,” said the musketeer, sadly. “When offi- 
cers are clamoring for back pay, when the taxes come 
in by driblets, since the collectors have sticky fin- 
gers — — ” 

“Tush, it is a teeming country! We know, D’Artag- 
nan, that a king’s cheese goes half away in parings ; but, 
to the glory of France ! her nobles are not impoverished. 
I know a lord whose strong box is open to the faithful 
servants of the state ” 

“My lord, your pensioners are envied above those of 
the king or the queen, there’s no disputing !” 

“You soldiers think yourselves dogs in the roasting- 
wheel, w’ho turn for others to get the meat, but ye shall 
not always have the rind and the trimmings and the hot 
splashes! You are ambitious, captain?” 

“To take ambition from the soldier is to chop the 
spurs from the knight 1” 

“Well, you who come to town in leather, walk in vel- 
yet now. We will find gold, not copper lace for the suit, 
rely on it, on your return.” 

“My lord, your well-known generosity ” 

“Mark you! The latest satire says of me: ‘Breasts 
stones enfold, as blood runs cold!’ but I will prove to 
my adherents that it is good shelter under an old 
hedge!” 

“My lord, when we were enemies, I did never scruple 
to advance my admiration for your support of your 
friends. Now that I have the favor to possess your 
lordship’s amity, I have said no prayer but ‘Lord love 
no other until France has a better governor!’ ” 

“As the soldiers’ blood is the captain’s glory, so is 
the minister’s trust his greatest testimony.” 

“May I deserve that trust, come martyrdom or mar- 
quisdom — that is my only prayer. In sum, your emi- 
nence, I am to take your money in my pocket, and 
my life in my hands, and spy Portugal. It seems to 


To Portugal. 45 

me — merely lihe captain on scout duty, and not a political 
intriguer, like the Marquis de Rambouillet, our Ambas- 
sador to Spain — ^that the rose in King Philip’s cap is 
likely to become a thorn to his side^^’ 

Richelieu had leaned well over th table, charmed by 
the ring of this confident, incisive and manly voice. At 
this observation from his carefully-chosen confidant, his 
glance rose, clear and searching, as though he were 
again of the junior’s age. It seemed to both that their 
spirits communed with nothing earthly between. Thus 
are two diamonds, brought into contact, declared to be 
genuine and inappreciable, by their own sparks. 

“Memo.,” said D’Artagnan, drawing the huge ring on 
his finger over his gauntlet, which he had put on, “I am 
to cover all the ground I can of this Ultima Thule be- 
tween this and the end of the coming February. Under 
the wings of the Petrel, bird of storm, but likewise of 
sunshine, I am to meet your money-carrier for means 
to pay the laborers w'hom I should employ to heap up 
such a barrier on Spain’s frontier as it will take her all 
her time to remove; or it will crush her.” 

“Spain is halting. He who will not look before him, 
shall look behind him.” 

“A cunning captain may certainly succeed by attack- 
ing a foe in the rear!” 

“She has forts, and the Spanish soldier is redoubt- 
able behind a rampart!” 

“Pooh! gold goes in at any gate ” 

“Save the golden ones of Heaven.” 

“I shall have laid out my burden of that kind before 
I am ordered through there!” 

“That is all. I thank the stars that they sent a capa- 
ble man.” 

“Yes, my lord, whose shortest answer is doing a 
thing!” 

Richelieu fell into abstraction. Did he doubt that he 
had ventured too far; confided an important operation 
to a Hercules who would beg to be relieved of the bur- 
den? 

D’Artagnian, who had reached the door curtains, lifted 
them to make sure that the door was closed. He lis- 
tened to his soldier breathing on the other side as he 


46 To Portugal. 

leaned on his partisan. Then, returning with a noise- 
less step, he leaned over the table so that young head 
and old one almost touched, to say: 

“One thing. Eminence! In event of my examination 
showing that with good changes the people may lift the 
standard of insurrection against the Lion and the Castles, 
who is to lead them?” 

“There is a ballad which goes about the streets,” re- 
plied the minister, as if he were expecting the query. 
“But you do not keep record of all these effusions, as 
my scretaries do.” He sang with his quavering voice, 
so unlike that which had in its day charmed Anne of 
Austria: 

*‘If Fortune exhibit a crown. 

He’d be but the stupidest clown 
Who’d lift it to quick put it down — Oh, gay ! Oh, gay I” 

^‘Certes!’^ cried the musketeer, drawing himself erect. 
“I have ambition. I am not above the flatteries of my 
star; but it is as a soldier. Great acts encourage 
greater! But I am not conceited enough to seat me 
on the throne of Manuel, the Lucky!” 

Richelieu smiled. The world was a workshop, where 
he knew the place of all his tools and drew them out 
only as wanted. 

“They would not tolerate a foreigner!” said he. “Not 
even Louis the First, of Artagnan. Let us rely on 
Providence,” continued he with that spice of hypocrisy 
inseparable from the cardinal-minister. “If Providence 
determines that there shall be a revolt and that revolt is 
to become a revolution, it will also provide a head for 
the vacated crown.” 

D’Artagnan left the room with a nimble step and 
a loaded heart, but a lighter one than he had entered 
with. 

The old premier took down one of his splendidly- 
bound books, an old tragedy, of which he loved the 
sonorous, but not very enlightening lines, saying be- 
fore he plunged into the pages, like one who had no 
concern in one quarter at least: 

“A good youth! Ah, I have my flaws; but never 
should Sixty advance by throwing down Thirty!’* 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE PETREL. 

After his peregrination, sounding Portugal tO' its 
depths with a view of measuring its loyalty for its sister 
kingdom, D’Artagnan was entitled to his rest. Thanks 
to the perfect peace of abandoned Salinas, and the 
savory if primitive cookery of Dame Quaqua, which he 
varied by handing over to her spit and pans, sea birds 
shot with a gun he found and furnished up, the chevalier 
felt ready for the second act of the drama, the cue for 
which would be presented by the herald promised by 
Cardinal Richelieu. 

Not a soul had entered the hamlet up to a morning 
when several small fisher boats stood in. They hovered 
about so long that the lonely hotelkeeper feared that he 
would never serve his novitiate toward these navigators. 
Accordingly, having noticed a post of ironbound Cata- 
lonian pine stuck in a rock, reached at low tide by a reef, 
which mast was topped by a basket of metal used as a 
fireholder, he shot off his gun in the air and went out to 
stuff a truss of eel grass into this cresset. The sailors 
very properly understood that firing a gun in the air and 
showing the green signified peace and, probably not 
dreading one man, steered in and ran their boats upon 
shore at his feet. 

They preceded Pedro’s return with quite a little fleet. 

These forerunners were greeted, not only by the 
musketeer, but the children, with whom D’Artagnan 
had made friends by the distribution of sweetmeats of 
Quaqua’s confection. Petty gewgaws, gathered in his 
own travels, won over their mothers. 

Hence, in a few minutes, he was drinking with the 
fishers in the cave as if he had been innkeeper all his life. 

After Pedro returned he went out with him. As their 
catch was rich, the men held him to be a person who 
carried luck, and he was almost torn to pieces thereafter, 
as each boat wanted him to sit in the thwarts and utter 


48 The Petrel. 

those cabalistic words which do, or do not, Bring fish to 
the hook. 

Still, the messenger did not come. 

He did not shrink therefore from letting himself be 
transferred, under Pedro’s wing, into a larger vessel, 
making longer trips, and soon increased his knowledge 
of the extent of the watery territory overruled by the 
Brothers of the Coast. 

A little drop or two of his blood and that of Pedro’s, 
the latter portion transfused in his veins, as the like was 
done toward the ancient master of the Petrel, made them 
“blood” brothers, while a ceremony, garnished with a 
blood-curdling oath, converted the landsman into a full- 
fledged Brother of the Coast. 

Thenceforth, M. d’Artagnan, whatever the number of 
men he commanded on land, might congratulate himself 
that he had a little navy at his back, composed of the 
lawless and landless, it is true, but not to be condemned. 

There was a good amount of Portuguese, or those 
wlho had sailed from Portuguese ports, in the Brother- 
hood of the Coast. 

“I do not say,” mused the plotter, “that Cardinal 
Richelieu will live to see Portugal free — but I think he 
will have invitation to the coronation of a king other 
than the present bearer of its sceptre.” 

He began to believe that the messenger from France 
was not hurried — that he would not anticipate the day of 
the limit of his arrival. 

So he continued his trips, without closely counting the 
duration. 

It was while he was thus absent from “his” inn that, 
one afternoon, a man rode into Salinas on a mule. 

He was young and dark; he was bowed by study 
rather than years, or as one of a race bred under the 
yoke. He was well-advised if he had been directed to take 
baths here, for he was unkempt and unwashed, almost 
like a hermit who had taken the vow not to care for him- 
self. His clothes were in keeping; old, worn, mended 
very badly and with patches not of the original stuff. 
His mule and DArtagnan’s horse, which was grazing 
on wild asparagus on the cliff together, would not fetch 
the price of one pony in a fair market. 


The Petrel. 49 

This rider had debouched from the southwest upon 
the salt marshes. He halted, went on again, and halted, 
like one who did not perceive expected landmarks. 

If he pushed on, it was spurred by growing uneasiness 
and disconcertion. 

Indeed, no doubt having seen Las Salinas in its high 
days, he was pained by the devastation. Where were 
inn, storehouses, sheds over the drying beds, where the 
pans, where the crystals glittering like crushed pearls in 
the merry sun? 

After various stoppages, moaning to himself like a 
bereaved one on a battlefield, strewn with the slain, this 
broken-spirited traveler reached the group of hovels 
where children and matrons were splitting newly-caught 
fish for curing, on a very small scale as compared with 
the former one — intending to smoke them instead of 
using salt. 

‘‘What are your wishes, sir?” cried the oldest woman, 
a wave and wind-shaken hag, in whose wrinkles shone 
grease and brine ; she had gray hair, but was strong as 
a man. 

“The inn! The Black Petrel?” he returned, looking 
about him as if he hoped he was only suffering from 
sun or sand blindness. 

“There is no inn, sir!” 

“Please your honor, the Pe-te-rel has flown away!” 
lisped a bright child, roguishly. 

“Hold your longue, imp ! The inn and all our houses 
have been swept away by the broom' of Beelzebub !” 

“What, a whirlywind?” 

“Of the landsmen’s contriving — 'those landsharks !” 

“Landsharks ?” looking round as if expecting to see 
a marine nondescript. 

“They left nothing to sole a shoe with, or fill a sea 
snail’s pack.” 

“You must be mad — or drunk !” 

“Drunk! it is drunk on starved mice, then! We had 
nothing to gnash but driftwood !” 

“Pray, make clear. What are the landsharks?” 

“Ho, ho, ho !” chorused the urchins, “he does not know 
what landsharks are !” and then they drew off to a dis- 
tance, losing all interest in this ignoramus. 


50 


The Petrel. 

^‘Why, sir, the quadrilleros (squad captains) of the 
Bishop of St. Sebastian, ithe governor’s soldiers, the 
Holy Brotherhood’s familiars, and his majesty’s fiscal 
officers ” 

Whereupon, curbing her flow of vituperative caustic, 
after consigning all these “landsharks” under one head 
to a sea of fire eternal, she related Salina’s destruction, 
calling all the saints, martyrs and holy days to witness 
her truth. To her, it had been a miniature Tyre. 

Her listener was sympathetic, engrossed in her narra- 
tion of the doleful fate. 

'‘Bad, by the Sacred Writ!” said he; “but, natheless, 
they must have left something !” 

“Go, pry in the sea where the sharks swarm' — do they 
leave you any bones ?” 

“But they are not heathens to burn an inn! They, 
who do not spare wine, do not smash the flagon ! It is of 
old written that he who soils the dish be ate of is ac- 
cursed thrice!” 

At this period, when home life was a garrison ex- 
lisitence, the family head a (^tator, the children slightly 
superior to the servants, anefthe menials slaves, to ruin a 
hostelry was akin to demolishing a sanctuary ! Even an 
A’ Becket could not always find an inviolate sanctuary, 
but everybody found an inn, that temple of equality (pro- 
vided there was a purse). 

“What have they done with the master? Had he no 
servants ?” 

“Oh, there was master enough ! but Pedro Bitts and 
the boys were away fishing — or 'they 'would have had a 
word to say, with points between the words, forsooth ! 
And his cook, the blackamoor, Quaqua, she was over the 
ridge, too — ^or she would have pretty soon thrust a hot 
poker into a cask of Schiedam and blown up the myrmi- 
dons !” 

“They seem to have chosen their time of descent well !” 

“Still, they did not get everything! We plucked the 
Black Petrel, and put everything worth keeping in that 
hole up there.” 

Her stock of verbiage exhausted, she, for the first time, 
perceived that she was addressing a Jew. Conv^ert, or 
pervert, or revert, or primitive, this matters not — he 


The Petrel. 51 

was of the race abhorred. She turned the backs of all 
the children of her brood toward him, made over them the 
sign of the cross, and the gesture against the evil eye on 
her own account. 

She hurried away, screwing up her rugged lineaments 
at having unwittingly condescended so greatly. 

Used to such humiliating homage, the son of Abraham 
simply shrugged his shoulders as if one straw more or 
less did not increase the load, lifted up his eyes in a 
questioning way, and rode his mule up to the cave in- 
dicated. 

He dismounted slowly, having stiffened limbs. Sub- 
rmissively he called out : “House, there ! ho, house and, 
as no reply issued from the uninviting opening, he warily 
ventured his nose inside. 

The negress must have been aroused from a siesta, as 
she arose with a cannibars gape. She approached iazily, 
^ like a cloud detached from the smoke and gloom. 

The fire was nearly out; why cook when the appre- 
ciative D’Artagnan was not at home to enjoy her art? 

She did not recognize him with any warmth, at all 
events. 

“I am seeking Senor Pedro Bitts,” said he. “You 
know me? Elizor Soleiman, of Silves, in Algarve.*^ 

A glimpse of brightness did appear in her glassy eyes. 

“It is a time since we saw you!’' said she. 

“Is it the same time as he has owed me for rent, and 
other matters ?” 

“What?” cried she, blazing up so that from dead- 
black she became purple. “Do you demand rent when 
we have not a house over us ?” 

Unfortunately, the money lender had recognized the 
furniture. 

“By the letter of the law,” said he, sternly, “the busi- 
ness is still carried on, when the sign is not pulled down ! 
That has been decided in the High Court of Burgos.” 

“Burgos? What do we care for your burghers here! 
Nobody but a madman or a Jew would assert such a 
claim upon the very ruins ! And you, to flaunt the law I 
I should think you and your tribe had had all the law, 
church, state and local, that you wanted! ay, to boot! 
But do not you block up the doorway! with all those 


The Petrel. 


52 

fisher folk scoffing at our being indebted to you for rent 
and ‘other matters !’ Oh, come in !” 

The tone would have harmonized with the act of emp- 
tying a kettle of boiling water over him, but her growl 
was oftener forthcoming than her bite ! Soleiman obeyed 
with trepidation. 

“Oh, yes ! squint around ! Admire what a badger hole 
the Spanish cormorants left us to stow the wreckage in! 
Nay, these things were not down in your invent-a-story I 
Mainly, they have been cast up by our good Father 
Neptune, kinder than the Spaniard or usurers! Ah, it 
is true, as the master says, ‘Where avarice rules, hu- 
manity stands off in the offing !’ There is not a pot or a 
pan here of what you lent Pedro, a miserable sum,, 
piastre for piastre!'* 

Elizor was so convinced of the ruin that he wrung his 
hands while he recovered his breath. 

At the opening, the mule looked in curiously, as if to 
learn what chance there was of its obtaining food and 
drink. 

But his master thought only of his own wants ; yet a 
glance at the fireless gloom dispelled any idea of tempta- 
tion to transgress his rules, if he deemed any bread un- 
hallowed in his distress. 

The Petrel seemed picked to the bone. 

“Peace V’ said he, mildly, to the African, “when one 
will not bicker, two cannot. Is not that fish hanging 
up over there? I will cook one with my own hands, if 
you will blow up that cheerless fire.’' 

“Oh, I will cook it for you! I am not going to let a 
man, and a Jew, spoil good sea food at a fire of my 
kindling. After all, you are a kind of guest, if unwel- 
come. There is wine, also washed up from off sound- 
ings !” 

“I thank you. I will cook the fish. And have you 
water?” 

She was making a bellows of her mouth at the revived 
fire; she pointed with her elbow to a corner; a spring 
bubbled out and trickled into a trough to run off the 
crystal stream and not flood the cave. 

He went there, drank out of his hand as a cup, like a 


The Petrel. 53 

Stoic, and returned to sit nearer the outer air, saying, 
without her heeding : 

“Let me think !” 

He crossed his legs, hid his face in his hands and re- 
flected deeply. In his close abstraction, he squeezed his 
•hands until the joints cracked; that might have been 
merely a popular exorcism against evil spirits. 

Disheartened by this inattention, the mule flapped its 
ears, emitted a s-trangled cry and drew back and out- 
wards, finally straggling toward the horse above, by cir- 
cuitous ways. 

The Soleiman of Silves seemed too young a man to 
suffer such prostration for what should be a petty loss; 
very poor or miserly he must be who broke his heart 
over this blow to the salt industry and the future of the 
tavern for its employees. 

But he was dwelling on it. 

“They were thriving so well,” muttered he. “I had 
orders for them to supply all Brittany with salt, to be 
delivered, as Pedro would, in the teeth of the royal tithe- 
gatherers. It is much to have a minister wink at things 
which despoil the nobles but keep the poor people alive ! 
And the vanished hostel! It must have done well, for 
that Pedro is a superior man who makes every one he 
meets his friend. He is no waster, although in the way 
of business he sets the lead. ‘Gentlemen, fill up 1 in a full 
glass there is no chance for a headache to creep I’ I have 
heard him 1 noble sentiments in an innkeeper 1 But all 
gone — cask and spile! By my ancient faith! Nobles of 
Spain ! you shall bleed for this, and from the heart, too ! 
King of Spain, you shall lose your best investment ! Ah, 
if those licensed robbers, after having leveled my village 
— for I helped create it — ^had only perpetrated the irony of 
sowing the foundation with salt, the scrapings might re- 
turn ten or twelve per centum. Robbers all, from the 
crown to the earthsill !” 

Suddenly, the negress rose; the fire had lingered and 
she made it blaze by pouring in some terebinthine out of 
a jar. With the glare she was transfigured. Instead of 
a greasy cook, she looked, to the astonished guest, a 
pythoness in her cave of destiny. Brushing by the la- 


54 The Petrel. 

meriting one, which contact farther aroused him from his 
brooding, she went into the doorway. 

She whistled like a man, through a filed tooth, and 
slapped the notice appended by Captain D’Artagnan to 
the jamb. 

Surmising that this was an authoritative order emanat- 
ing from the despoilers of Las Salinas, the Jew rose also 
and stood before it. He must have been learned', as he 
understood at a flash, reading the Spanish lines: 

“ 'The Caballera de Gannarta expects’ me on the last 
day of February, eh? Oh, the emissary from my lord 
the duke, eh? There is no further delay, then; that 
long-laid-up money will be wanted, and I may not play 
shilly-shally with Louis XIII.’s first minister as this 
burned-out innkeeper does with me. What does he de- 
mand the cash for ? and money so dear now ! Is another 
war in sight? Oh, these great jugglers, for the Riche- 
lieu is a great one! They play pitch and toss with the 
balls on the sceptre as they do with cannon balls ! 

“Is it with England this time again? They say that 
its king is in a desperate plight. It would not be the 
first time on record that a monarch went to war abroad 
in order to gain a peace at home with the less daring 
commercial spirits, whose bulwarks are the counter and 
'whose weapons are the pepperbox and the yardstick I 
Would the land of grain and that of the grape join to 
crush this land of orange groves — vine stake and hop pole 
clash? But the hog should not look up while they are 
threshing the fruit down ! Woe is me ! I am so upset 
by this calamity that I liken myself to the hog now ; mur- 
rain breed! Misfortunes come in pairs, like doves; 
this loss on the salt marsh and of the inn, and the great 
duke demanding his money!” 

Staring at the writing on the wall, he continued : 

“Coming back on the twenty-ninth, eh ! Easy-going, 
this cavalier! Methinks that, for a million or more, he 
might have stayed here until I arrived; is not the rule: 
‘The first come about money, waits for the other!’ Per- 
haps the lonesomeness disgusted him! It is the barren- 
ness of Gomorrah! Where am I to find decent quar- 
ters while awaiting the duke’s envoy? San Sebastian? 
My brethren never had a good word for its Jewry. It 


The Petrel. 55 

might not be safe for me, if it were known that I and 
the Soleimans shouldered the men who shouldered the 
bags of salt! Oh, the lot of Israel is a hard one!” 

He shivered at renewed contemplation of this scurvy 
retreat, which had been made 'bearable to the musketeer. 
But then, the musketeer had not lost money here; in- 
deed, he expected to receive money. They were at op- 
posite ends of the telescope. 

“Well, I shall stay here, and make the best of it. I 
do not suppose that black priestess of Satan would hesi- 
tate to poison me in some diabolical mess! I must pre- 
pare my own food. I shall have to keep close, too, 
since I had not the means to scatter a handful of cinq- 
reis among those brats, and colored scarves to bestow 
on their dams. That virago will set the village about 
my ears! 

“But whom have we here as the Caballero de Gan- 
narta? I do not know the name, but the astute duke 
would not send a nonenity to draw a million! It is 
mask for an active spirit of the French court, which 
never wanted yet such to cozen a Spaniard, a Levantine; 
but not, this time, a Jew!” He smiled with pride, and 
the firelight showed him less rigid and pinched of fea- 
ture. “Som-e norn de guerre \ A lieutenant who is go- 
ing to be employed in the state engineer’s plot to blow 
up or build up — what? 

“Who does he mean to place on high, or bring low? 
Whom replace; whom displace, and in whose favor? 
But for these intriguers, and -the fighting men whom 
they, control and gull with pledges of glory, the world 
would be heaven; no wars, no enmities; nothing but 
trade! These swaggering caballeroes would become 
sheriffs, and their bravoes just servers of writs and en- 
forcers of judgments, if in such a millenium any one was 
delinquent!” 

A thought seized him. 

“Oh, the Pope! This Urban hangs on to the chair 
like a lamprey! A successor might be lenient to us, 
and no more should we shudder at the Holy Brother- 
hood, with its torches extinguished and its cross-handled 
sword snapped! Richelieu, the next Pope! 

“My father, the only Soleiman in France, in trade 


56 The Petre!. 

with Bearn and Navarre, equipped his father, simply a 
captain who lacked for boot and breedhes and a war 
horse, for the wars. What if I shall be equipping the 
cardinal for his next ecclesiastical promotion? It will 
be the interest on his millions well invested! 

“This Spain is a giant, cruel as the giants are, but he 
loses his limbs one by one; and France, as the giant- 
killer, furnishes the pigmies with the hatches to hew 
them off! And our people supply the handles, and 
sharpen the blades — and — hem! perhaps buy the frag- 
ments for the fleshpots.^' 

“Master,” interrupted the negress, who, no doubt, 
had no religious prejudices, but did not desire his com- 
pany as a usurer, “since you follow up your house by 
its pieces, stay with them while I go to sleep at the 
Dame Usula’s. It is a widow of a fisher; I nursed her 
boy through the marsh fever, for the spell of St. Agnes 
did no good! I am welcome there.” 

This announcement traversed his plan, but he nodded 
with the resignation which branded the contemporaries 
in his creed, and in no way did he stay her in her flight, 
leaving him alone. 


•CHAPTER VIL 

A NEW BIDDER. 

Before it came on dark, it was necessary to arrange 
for the long night. As the fire had been lit and was 
brightly burning, and a supply of fuel was at hand, that 
trouble was removed. But, wary and suspicious, first 
of all, he took up a brand, shook off t?he superfluous 
sparks for fear of fire, and, with many misgivings, 
climbed the stairs to •explore the loft which had puzzled 
him. He made a more ithorough search than his pred- 
ecessor, but returned satisfied that mischief would not 
fall on him, unless the whole cliff gave way under the 
two horses which he heard over his head. 

Returning, he was going down into the cellar; but, 
at the sight of a profound and unfathomable darkness, 
to which his light was mockery, he contented himself 
with a simpleton’s test. He called out, ‘Ts there any 
one there?” and as no answer came, tried to believe that 
it was untenanted. 

The brand scorching his hand, he searched about and 
found, in a box of priceless cedar wood, a bundle of such 
large tallow candles as the Catalonian lead miner uses, 
hanging up by rope-yarn wicks, like so many gallow’s 
birds. He lighted one and put it on the table where his 
seat commanded a view of the doorhole. 

Completely ignoring his mule — the act of one not ac- 
customed to riding, perhaps, rather than inhumanity, 
although that is a characteristic of the Peninsulars, he 
began to read and check a handbook of accounts. 

Spite of his apparel and general aspect, so mean and 
sordid, he was at home among these figures, in four or 
five to a row, and involving startling amounts, even if ex- 
pressed in francs, pistarcens or milreis. His fine features 
exposed the absorption and relish of a money-spinner, 
doubled by an arithmetician. 

At dark he laid aside the manual to take up the fish, 
broiled finely on the glowing coals. With bread, hard 


58 A New Bidder. 

and dry as old Parmesan cheese, carried iby himself in his 
gabardine, he made his supper, perhaps the first meal he 
had that day. 

He had appeased his appetite when an alarm at the 
aperture caused him to spring up, regretting that he was 
not a man of war who could have utilized some of the 
arms about the cave. 

It was only that mule, which, reinforced by the clam- 
ponnier, thrust its head in. He tied it up by the outlet, 
threw it an armful of rushes, of which the horse amicably 
partook, they pulling out mouthfuls by turns, and hung 
an old sail across the passageway, as much to keep out 
the air currents as the animals. 

Lighting a third candle, so that the other should not 
leave him in the dark, it approaching its end, he resumed 
his calculations. He frowned and smiled by turns. By 
his gloating look, one might consider that his mind^s eye 
was peering into a strong box full of gold and silver and 
other valuables. 

He was startled by the sound of more than one step 
without. 

The horse neighed and the mule whinnied. Poor out- 
cast, he wished to make friends with even his haughty 
cousins. 

The heavy ones were man’s — maybe Pedro’s ; a lighter 
one, which neared the doorway, a woman’s, hardly 
Quaqua’s, for its ease and alacrity. Thieves would not 
come, with supporters perfectly careless concerning the 
noise they made. He was a little reassured as he stood 
between a desire to flee and a belief that he could not 
escape, by the light steps stopping at the ingress as if the 
person were not bold. 

At the same moment, a gentle rapping with a small 
white glove, made the doorpost resound. 

“Gloved? Whom have we here?” he asked himself, 
hiding the memorandum book in his sleeve. “The cred- 
itor was an offender against the functionaries and would 
hardly more seek to set them upon me than the fishers ! 
After all, I have come, as far as he was entangled, simply 
for my dues. Hark ! it is a woman ! Oh, let us face the 
danger! I am not the fool to carry my treasure on my 
back 1” smiling with the superiority of the few educated 


A New Bidder. 59 

at that time. “Let the Gentile shrink who knows not the 
virtue of letters of ’change ! Now, may my intimate 
gods (Teraphim) be good to me! I will open, though 
the nine worthies stood without ” 

So muttering, he drew aside the canvas with a hand 
that did not tremble. 

The mantled figure did not advance. This embold- 
ened him to challenge loudly : 

“What is wanted?” 

“I want the way in, in the first place !” It was a sweet 
voice utterly unlike any he had nerved himself to hear. 
By an imperative motion, the white-gloved hand waved 
him aside, with a fan she held, one of those with which a 
man might have been stunned, so heavily was the handle 
incrusted with crystal and other second-rate gems. 

“A woman — a lady 1” stammered he, drawing back in 
amaze, while still holding up the screen. 

What was a siren doing on this sterile shore? Are 
there nereids to come out of the wondrous deep ? 

“Are you going to let me pass ?” proceeded the voice, 
as if the speaker were not accustomed to being delayed. 

“If there are mermaids,” murmured Elizor, running 
his long, dry hands through his tangled black hair, “this 
is the queen of them. Why do you ask to come in?” 

“Because this is the public house of Las Salinas.” 

“You are right. It is the only house, if it deserves that 
name. But there is no accommodation, lady. Why 
should you want to enter here ?” 

“Know, eccentric boniface, that I am eccentric also — I 
want to do good !” 

“Truly ? to whom ? I — I am only the host for the time 
being — I am a landlord perforce.” 

“I can put ten moidores in your box, temporary host, 
for an eternity, for, judging by your promontory, you 
love and you hoard gold.” 

“Ten moidores — ^thirteen gold philips,” repeated Elizor, 
quickly, not resenting the personal remark, and licking his 
lips so that their color was revived. 

“Open straight ! There is a flaring torch in the village 
below. I do not wish to be seen by the clowns.” 

Judging that he need fear nothing from a person who 
shunned what shadowy publicity Salinas offered, he drew 


6o A New Bidder, 

Up the sail-like tapestry still farther and ranged himself 
beside its stiff folds. 

The mantled and hooded woman stepped past him. 

Thus he was allowed to see, a little farther out in the 
obscurity, two or three large and handsome mules, to 
Which his was a caricature, caparisoned richly by the 
glint of metal adornments ; they were held by two or three 
tall fellows, in gray livery ; they held staves, which, in his 
eyes, resembled spears. 

. “This is not only a fine, but a great lady,” thought the 
present holder of the title to the Petrel, seeing this guard. 
“We never know what angels we may entertain ; but, 
assuredly, I did not dream that Pedro had visitors of this 
quality.” 

“Good-evening, Senor Pedro Bitts!” began the in- 
truder, walking up to the table and the candle, as if she 
had no reason to shun the not overpowering lustre. 

This ignorance of the person whose name she used 
wrongly, contradicted her pretense of ihiaving been in the 
cave before. 

Elizor saw, as the hood opened, the face of a beautiful 
girl of scarce twenty, whose fair complexion had no need 
of the black plaster patches to set it off. But, on second 
thoughts, it seemed to him, as was not unseldom the case, 
these patches, cut into formal shapes with fine sciscors, 
might be emblems of recognition. 

In his admiration, he let the error pass. 

“Good! you have let down the hangings. It is not 
necessary that the varlets should guess the nature of our 
confabulation.” 

“The fact is ” 

“Or see the splendrous interior of your refectory.” 

By the curl of her tremulous nostrils, it was clear that 
she had inhaled the smell of the fried fish, and no more 
approved of it than of the scene she derided. 

He did not take up any of these sneers. 

As if the air was oppressive, she flung back the opened 
hood with a toss of the head. 

It coiled around her neck, robust and massive, though 
so juvenile, and broad shoulders, like a Venetian duchess, 
after Bronsino ; knots of rosy ribbon decked each 
shoulder, perhaps such favors as 'women give gallants to 


A New Bidder. 6i 

signalize tihem as upholders of the cause they espoused. 
Her ears were small, close to the round head, and pink ; 
her eyes black and lively; her hair abundant and only 
brown, not black, as one expected in strict harmony with 
her other traits. Seed pearls in long ropes were twined 
in and out of its braids and increased the mass which 
crowned her, and would have broken the shock of a sabre 
cut — ^if even a Turk could think to strike at this master- 
piece of nature, perfected in the court. 

‘T beg your ladyship’s pardon, but I cannot guess at 
your title ?” f 

“You are putting the very remark to me which is a 
question I cannot answer,” returned she, pertly. 

Elizor had a doubt. While he certainly was to meet 
by appointment Cardinal Richelieu’s emissary, there might 
be other business than monetary. This court lady was 
clearly just the one to carry out a plot on lines very dif- 
ferent from those he was fated to travel in. He took up 
the candle, snuffed it with tremor, as the snuff was large 
and hot, and held it to the writing on the post. 

“If you would please to read, my lady?” said he, with 
respect from adorable source — her rank and her beauty. 

Probably thinking it one of those prints carried by 
peddlers -from door to dOor, to 'be stuck up in inns, barber 
shops, farriers’ smithies, and public resorts, she gave it a 
careless glance. Then remembering that in these times 
none were justified in letting even trifles pass, she gave it 
a more interested look. Next she read it. 

Now the Jew believed that she read the French first, 
which convinced him that she was in the scheme ; on the 
other hand, a Spanish lady might understand the tongue, 
although of her foes. 

“How now?” cried she, more amused than irritated; 
“do you take me, sirrah, for a Duchess de Chevreuse, the 
intriguante, who disguised herself so neatly as a cavalier 
that she deceived the officers of the port, trying to pre- 
vent her escaping out of France? No, I am not inter- 
twined with this plot — for, I warrant ye, sirrah ! there is 
a plot when the workers involve four or five nations !” 

“You may be a duchess without being La Chevreuse,” 
replied Soleiman, stoutly, not caring to be considered a 


62 A New Bidder. 

common innkeeper, and convinced tihiat tibe Petrel was 
the stage to no petty play, “and you need not be clad as a 
cavalier to carry things off cavalierly 

“Hoity-toity! what a fine wit in a coarse tavern!” said 
she, but with good-humor. 

And to show her contempt for this inferior, she delib- 
erately took up a handglass and a comb suspended at her 
side and rearranged the ringlets on her forehead, as if the 
Jew were a footman. 

“Then you do not come to the Petrel to meet the Ca- 
ballero signing himself there?” 

“Then you talked wit — ^now, you talk nonsense !” 

“But are you pursuing any object ” 

“Methdnks you are questioning me. Never mind, I 
am probably pursued.” 

But if she were apprehensive, a second thought about 
her attendants, who would certainly not let her be sur- 
prised, came to her relief. 

“Pursued?” echoed! Soleiman, not eager to be arrested 
in even such rare company. 

“No ; not closely, at any rate ! But I am always ex- 
posed to pursuit, master of the Petrel ; but not of your 
tongue. I may have been followed from Fontarabia, but 
not to this remote spot. Do not flatter yourself, chief in- 
habitant of Las Salinas, not yet is your hamlet a court 
resort !” 

“It is no place — ^the village has been swept away! 
And as for the Petrel Inn, the sad walls would mourn the 
master only that not even are the walls left. All that was 
useful has been put in this cavern of the winds.” 

“A tempest?” 

“By a commotion stirred up by those fomentors of tur- 
bulence, the clergy, the tax-farmers and the lords of the 
coast.” 

“I have nothing to do with them — they less with me, I 
trust. My ride was irksome.” She took a seat, using her 
cloak as a cushion on the bench, without too much repug- 
nance. “Let us pass the time more profitably, boniface 
of my heart!” 

“So we have business together, uninclosed by a plot?” 
said the Jew, wondering that his racial points had not 


A New Bidder. 6? 

provoked more raillery than she had freely given. 
“Senseless 'widgeon that I am, I was not to imagine 
that V 

“Business on my side — pure pleasure on yours.” 

Elizor had the wit to pass a compliment, but he had 
the sense not to attempt a sally. The remembrance of 
the staves of the serving men without deterred him. 
Never would be lose a business gain for a jest, however 
good. 

“Hem ! It is late for ” He was going to say “a 

great lady,” but he corrected himself and filled! the ellipse 
with “business.” 

“I am going to offer 

“The ten moidores alluded to ” 

“Yes, Master Pedro. I put down a question before I 
do the coin, which are here.” She held up a satchel, also 
attached to that comprehensive chatelaine, the substitute 
for pockets. “Can you let your house to me for a term ?” 

“Eh, what ?” faltered he. 

“Let your inn to me. That will not disturb any custo- 
mers, as far as I can see.” 

“I — I — but such a poor place — such a fine pa- 
troness ” 

“A sorry inn may shelter a great head,” said she, 
gravely, for if she knew him to be a Jew she must have 
believed him a converted one — for few of the orthodox 
had the inquisition left in Spain. “Nay, I speak gen- 
erally ” seeing him bite his lip. “The inn for my 

use and the ten gold pieces for yours.” 

“I have no objections, but — this may interfere with 
” he pointed to D’Artagnan’s intimation. 

“Oh, the expected caller on the Caballero de Gannarta? 
On the last of February? No, it will not conflict with 
my arrangements.” 

“He may come — ^both may come — it is the only way I 
know of for two persons to meet !” 

“You positively overflow with wit — I know where to 
send one to the next court wishing a jester ! Lord know- 
eth that the courts are all sad and should not have abol- 
ished that officer ! If they are gentlemen they will no^ 
cross a lady ” 


64 A New Bidder. 

“Well, things go by halves in this world. One may 
be a gentleman — the other a lout 

“Then the lord will cudgel the lout if he is impudent 
to the lady!"^ 

“Oh,’’ muttered Elizor, to whom this phase had not 
presented itself. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TH^ THIRD TENANT. 

‘‘Well,” grumbled the money-leuder, “I will not answer 
for the consequences.” 

“Take your coin.” 

She put a silk purse on the table, wherein the gold 
pieces glittered through the fine meshes like fish in a net. 
For the first time in his life Elizor put money away with- 
out counting it. The loftiness of this lady daunted him ; 
he would as soon as have thrown a pebble at her as hinted 
by an act that he doubted her honesty. Still, he had had 
princesses come to pawn their jewels with him. 

“And I do not require answers, except to my ques- 
tions.” 

He waited for those questions, but none came ; she was 
examining the room. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, before I leave you 
the inn, yours from ceiling to sill ?” inquired he. 

He began to shiver at the doubt that he should find any 
cover for his head, poor proscript that he was, within 
easy march that night, and yet the ten pieces so easily 
gotten would drive away sleep. 

“Is there a window — a cranny open to the sea?” 

Elizor had noticed a crack in the rock. He pointed to 
it. A current of air set in through it which shook the 
blackened cobwebs over their heads. 

“There is one — it has given me a crick in the neck.” 

“Anticipating ” she finished, with a playful ges- 

ture, pantomiming a suspension like Jove’s candles, which 
was neither in the sea, in the air, nor on the land. 

In a niche, about head high, stood a statuette, in Della 
Robbia ware, of the particular divinity of the seas, “Our 
Lady of the Star of the Sea.” Between the negress, who 
was a heathen, and D’Artagnan, who was not often in- 
doors, the lamp had been suffered to go out ; a three-^ply 
screen of that Sarreal alabaster scraped thin and used for 
glass was set before it to enable the light to burn steadily. 


66 The Third Tenant. 

^Tut tiHat wind guard in that hole, and place the canidle 
in it/’ 

Though the woman was the embodiment of haughti- 
ness and independence, at least toward him, somehow he 
felt averse to quitting her. Perhaps it preyed upon him 
to earn the money too easily. He obeyed her with alac- 
rity. He robbed the saint of her translucent screen with- 
out any reluctance, and, by mounting on a bench, fixed it 
in the hole. As she kindly handed him the light he set 
that under its protection. 

“Have you not more candles ? — yes, I spy several !” 

“All at your ladyship’s service.” 

He had laid them out to have one in burning all the 
time he should sit up. 

“Light two more and range them in a line in that apol- 
ogy for a casement,” said this modern Persephone, 
bringer of light, or offerer of it to the utter darkness. 

The three illuminants could not be seen in the village, 
so it seemed gratuitous. 

He carried out the instruction as truly as those serv- 
ants would have done, who waited with all the patience 
of the Spanisih. 

Elizor stepped down, looked at the trio, and, turning 
his features, showed all his perplexity. 

“The friends of the fishers at sea light a taper to the 
saint they favor when they are homeward bound,” ex- 
plained she. 

Soleiman slightly shook his head ; this was not one in- 
terested in a fisher. 

“Therefore, I implore the Trinity for those on the 
deep.” 

The Jew made a deprecatory wave of the hand; not 
that he dared doubt the efficacy of appeal, but he was 
superstitious in his own way. Even the Gentile may in- 
dulge in a little weakness. 

“Have you another outlet to this den ?” demanded she, 
suspiciously. 

“'Not that I know of.” 'In looking round as she did, 
his head rubbed a swinging pigskin distended with wine 
and he shuddered. 

“They are honest folk out there?” 

“They are only fishers now. We had smiugglers and 


The Third Tenant. 67 

wreckers, for these old Biscayans are as fierce and greedy 
as when the Roman found them tough birds to pick. But 
that is not here nor there — or rather,” added he, with 
the equivocation second nature to his fellows, “they are 
not here.” 

“Go your way, then! Mark, you are not to inquire 
about me or my business at Salinas.” 

“From the moment I have been paid I trouble myself 
and my dealer no farther! You, too, have proved my 
best friend in these worst of times. It cost me heavily 
to travel 'hither. You have paid my way fare back ! May 
you be blessed in your undertaking !” 

Then he said to himself ; “It is undoubtedly a great 
dame. I may need her influence some day !” 

Still he sighed. His glimpse out of that crack had 
shown him a leaden sky, fog rising over the shore, and 
cold was on the blast. But this person who_ had bought 
the right to deal out the hospitality of the Petrel was one 
to let even her servants battle it out in the open; a dog 
she might allow in — a Jew, never! He bowed with the 
submissiveness of those long down-trodden, and crept 
out under the sail. 

The two lackeys had made their mules comfortable by 
tying them under a projecting ledge, where D’Artagnan’s 
horse hadl shown them the best corner. But they stood 
there, erect, drawing their short cloaks round them, 
propped on their staves, hardy as the Highlander watch- 
ing his sheep. They stood like sculptures. They paid 
no more heed to him than to the flecks of scum which, 
sliced off a rising breaker, were hurled over them, hissing 
spitefully. 

In the north the sky was dyed indigo, with a small, 
round, luminous spot, resembling a great brooch on this 
mantle. A seaman would call this a “storm eye.” 

Elizor shivered and tightened a rope belt around his 
one ample outer wrap. 

“If Pedro found a cave for the ruins of his inn stock, 
why may I not find one for my head ?” 

Yet 'the idea of scrambling among those pit holes be- 
tween rocks with jagged -points, and coated with oysters 
having razorlike edges, made him shiver again. He un- 


68 


The Third Tenant. 


loosed his mule and dragged it out with reluctance on 
both parts. He sadly mounted. 

The men paid so little attention to him that he didi not 
care to sj>eak to them. They probably believed that their 
mistress had given him a commission to carry out. 

“Animal instinct is great/’ mused he. “This beast 
may take me to a refuge against the bad weather. Ah, 
I came in vanity and I depart in darkness, relying on a 
brute to deliver me from the shadows that walk at dead 
of night! Well, rather a robbers’ cave than this, where 
that proud and haughty scorner presides at the board I” 

For an instant the lady thus apostrophized appeared at 
the doorway. It was to speak to her footmen, however. 

“Scipio! ’Sebio! one of you take rest while the other 
watches; sleep you, across this gap. Good ward, you 
others I God rest us !’* 

They responded affectionately and respectfully. They 
did not share the Jew’s animosity. 

His plodding mule carried him up to the cliff top. 

He 'was too anxious about what might befall him 
to look behind. Had he done so, and out to sea, he might 
have seen, under the dense, stormy clouds and above the 
mist banks, swaying to and fro along shore, clinging at 
the bottom of the mass to the solitary bowlders, a kind of 
shooting star with a long trail of fiery sparks. It errat- 
ically skirted the shore, now darting outward to round a 
reef end, now half circling in a little pool, and sometimes 
held at a point which was with difficulty passed. Finally, 
by dint of great exertions on the part of those propelling 
the craft carrying this star at the prow, it could direct its 
course tolerably straight. It headed for the beach, under 
the cliff where the three candies feebly gleamed through 
the alabaster shade. 

It was a twelve-oared galley, padded with, cork bark 
on the bow and stern to ride more easily. On the bow 
sat a man, proof to the spray drenching him as the bow 
rose and fell. He held a steel wheel, striking against a 
flinty edge in a tinder box. This sent out its trail of 
scintillations. 

If the Jew had not espied this, it was not so with the 
servant on guard, who roused his mates, just nodding off, 
and going to the cave mouth, rapped on the jamb, crying : 


69 


The Third Tenant. 

‘‘Lady Jacinta! they are coming!’' 

Leaving his comrade to take 'his place, he ran down the 
slope as fast as the clinging mist allowed him, bounding 
over stones, slipping on the moss and weed, sliding in the 
sand, but reaching the edge, and even wading into it in 
eagerness. 

The surge came up insiduously and ran back tumultu- 
ously, shaking him on his feet. 

By this time the transient hostess of the Petrel had 
come to the door. She tore down the cloth and stood out 
a little, though having no hood or cloak. 

“Thanks be!” cried she. “It is they! I had bad 
dreams, too ! They saw my :signal, which was put out in 
time. They are answering my servant. How timely! 
how swiftly they have traveled ! Emergency must press 
for such rapidity.” 

The lackey went in to his mid-thigh. So he and the 
man at the prow, who 'had laid aside his fire lighter, 
clasped hands. This steadied the ponderous boat. Two 
of the men made a bridge of their ashen oars, which 
reached the shore, and got a rest on a stone. The bow- 
man and the servant held this firmly. 

Up in the stern rose a woman, wrapped in several 
mantles and boat cloaks. She threw them off, walked 
along the thwarts, supported reverently by the rowers, 
and finally went to the land over the two shafts, with a 
sure foot, however unused to such a precarious means. 

She still wore a gown and hood like a black peni- 
tent’s, letting only her eyes be seen, shining gloriously. 

Here Sebio, coming out of the water, offered his arm 
with the utmost respect, and the two climbed the ascent 
to the place where the new hostess eagerly awaited her. 

If there were any awake in the village, it was impos- 
sible to perceive it, for the fog thickly enwrapped all. 

Having disembarked the passenger, the galley was 
shoved off briskly, the men laid to the oars, and soon it 
disappeared in the shadow like a many-legged, creeping 
thing. 

The pilot must have had profound knowledge of the 
coast to steer among the beetling crags and those sticking 
up in the seething surge. 


70 The Third Tenant. 

‘‘Ttfank Heaven, it is your highness!” ejaculated 
Donna Jacinta, clasing her hands. 

“It is what is left of me. I am frozen up into a ball, 
though ithe seamen took great care of me,” was the reply, 
in a rich voice. 

“But, my lord?” 

“Let us indoors!” there coming no direct reply. “I 
feel giddy with the whistling of the wind and the scream- 
ing of tfhe sea biirds.” 

As soon as they were within the cavern, the younger 
lady made the other siit at the high and splendid fire. 
Tihen, returning, she hung up the screen carefully, and 
took down the three lights with which she decked the 
table, sticking them in a stand of that plate which seemed 
stolen from a sanctuary. 

The newcomer gave a look of intense disgust and un- 
qualified disapproval to Pedro’s interior, and, sighing, let 
the gown and hood glide down behind her. 

“Dear duchess ! but any port in a storm ! Alack ! what 
an antre to entice a Braganza and a Guzman-Gonzales 
into !” 

“My sweet Jacinta, we must take things as they come !” 

“That seems to have been the war cry here — a mass of 
pillage ! But the duke ?” 

“I thought the Duke of Braganza would be here await- 
ing me !” 

“And I, that he would be accompanying you !” 

They looked at each other in anxiety, trepidation, and 
then stupor. 

The presentiment of evil permeated both, though not 
easily dejected, as if the low brow of this shelter weighed 
upon them. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE STORM. 

If So>leimian, who had pronounced Donma Jiacinta 
haughty, had stayed to see her visitor, he would have 
withdrawn that commendium and given it to the latter. 

For Luisa de Guzman, Duchess of Juan of Braganza, 
was a Gonzago — ^that is to say, a pride of the proudest. 

She had that matronly beauty which can be massive 
without being masculine. The ages preceding hers 
abounded with them — women w!ho could wear those pon- 
derous German panoplies in which a Life Guardsman 
would stifle. All was superabundiance in her: her eyes 
were large as Juno’s, but, unlike the Queen of Heaven’s, 
not at all meek; her complexion was a golden cream, 
concording with the deepest vermillion of the lips, full 
and perfect as those of Albani’s nymphs; her chin was 
square, though plumply rounded ; it would be double in 
time, unless the vicissitudes which she courted — although 
a life of luxurious ease were hers if she chose it — for- 
bade her any repose. 

Above the medium, statuesque, but capable of indefinite 
movement as long as her spirit were fired, she was a 
Fleming in bearing but a Spaniard in vehemence of 
action and gesticulation. Her hands sihould have been 
short and plump, but they seemed trimmed by a Van- 
dyke, they had the Italian vivacity, and she could have 
managed a reti^household of Turkish mutes by dumb- 
show alone. 

At this moment she was not attired, as became her, 
in the heaviest of brocades, beaten gold jewelry and those 
enormous cameos Which we cherish in museums and no 
lady thinks of wearing — they would seem burlesque. 
Her traveling dress was of strong stuff, bound with 
chamois, and without a thread of color ; her belt, a chdte- 
laine, was of fine Cordovan leather, with stiletto, scissors, 
fan and other appendages of the lady of a household and 


The Storm. 


72 

court; from a scent bottle with a perforated silver cap 
oozed the perfume known as zizethum, vulgarized as 
“civet” in a later age. 

Luisa de Guzman-Braganza was fairly versed in the 
arts and graces of the retrograde Spanish and Portu- 
guese courts, the latter a dull reflection. She was agree- 
able; 'liked by her dependents; it was said that “she is 
hard to offend, but hard when offended.” If her wicked 
godmother, who with the good one bestows all one’s 
mental powers, had been content with giving her Satanic 
beauty, all were well, but she had added his rebellious 
spirit — 'she wanted not to rank w'ith the highest, but out- 
rank them ! Her husband would have fcen the most 
enviable of men, but for this incessant inciter. She left 
him no peace until her aim was attained. 

At present the goa'l was obscured and distant. 

His absence temporarily deepened her distress and 
impatience. 

She wished to be queen. 

She bad the profound subtlety to gull the priests — 
they believed they would lose nothing, and she prom- 
ised that they should be neutral ; Braganza made friends 
easily, though secretive, slow and too tardy in gener- 
osity; he guaranteed that he would have the people of 
Portugal and her leading men. But they lacked what 
had become, in that era, the backbone of all conspiracies 
— gold. The great captains had degenerated ; few of 
them would 'have refrained from striking a blow on the 
eve of a certain victory if a golden buckler were thrust 
between. 

The precious metals had become invisible in that land 
where her navigators had brought them almost as bal- 
last ; the merchants hid them in their coffers ; the princes 
stripped the gold lace off their coats not ito have the 
Spanish tax collectors forestall them ; the common peo- 
ple, from long since, were 'hoarding, and wearing rags 
not to betray their well-to-do condition. As for the 
Jews, recognized negotiators, they were persecuted ailmost 
out of existence. 

“Your highness must have received my letter, or you 
•would have 'found me?” asked Donna Jacinta. 


The Storm. 73 

“Yes ; impassible to find Las Salinas without a clew. 

It is not on the map ! I got it at your country place.” 

“Is all well at Floriador?” 

“Perhaps you sihould say, ‘Are all well V Your brother 
has taken away nearly all the men to form a regiment 
for the king.” 

“Oh, that Jorge ” 

“Who is the dragon to you ?” 

“He is the dragon, also, devouring our best blood and 
muscle! So he has gone down to our country place? 
Was my letter intact ?” 

“A gentleman — ^fie !” 

“Gentlemen do odd things in these 'days when ladies 
have to play the amazon !” 

The duchess smiled dubiously. 

“I warrant nothing. Seals are so neatly sliced off and 
imitated. Dear lady of Floriador, who is safe?” 

“I am not sorry you are out of it. My brother is one * 
of those faithful who would arrest a queen-regnant if 
the king ordered so.” 

“Then, if the duke ” 

“Faith I 'he would not shrink from laying hands on a 
duke’s sword I So, I ask to know if the duke ” 

“Returning to our Castle of Braganza, with the key 
to your new domicile, the duke sihowed me a formal in- 
vitation, very prettily worded, but a command all the 
Same ” 

“To go to the Escurial ? Woe ! they will broil him on 
that gridiron palace!” 

“Not at all ! Broils and brawls are forgotten ! War 
between Spain and othe-r powers over, the court gives 
itself up to festas — but for roasting a heretic now and 
anon there is positively nothing doing that would cause 
that angel-overseer, who looks at us through a peephoile 
in the skies, to blush and avert the face. The duke went 
by that desire to attend a ceremony, the launching of a 
new vessel, the initial one of a fleet. They are going to 
transform the navy. No more bluff-bowed tubs, but 
snaky, fleet, sinuous craft which will travel like that 
serpent who shot out of the surge to devour Andromeda. 

It is a new fleet called ‘The Holy Hope’ by his majesty 
'himself.” 


74 The Storm. 

“Where did (they huild t!he novelty — 'San Sebasitian ?” 

“My dear, they could not have gotten her out of that 
’narrow-mouthed harbor. No; at San Andero del Mar, 
where, another novelty, they launch hea* sidewise.” 

“Oh, if the duke is in good hand ; and, for your con- 
tent, I agree that peace may be lulling suspicion to 
slumber, I will pester you no more on that head.” 

“What are your tidings ?” 

“Excellent! As you know, since Oviedo is thronged 
with foreigners studying at the university, no one tam- 
pers with the royal mail. So our letters thither do not 
meet with delay or interception. I received there mis- 
sives from all points. The native party has become na- 
tional — 'it augments daily — ^all enthusiasm, but not the 
kind ■which dispenses with keeping the knife sharp and 
the powder flask full. Revolution is a cannon ball, not 
a bubble!” 

“I wish I had your flame !” though the duchess had 
nothing to envy in her confidante on that score. 

“Was there intelligence out of the North? Will Eng-- 
land help Spain in case of the internal disseverance?” 

“I doubt it, though the block is a personal one : Prime 
Minister Olivarez hates the English in the fonn of its 
minister, the Duke of Buckingham, favorite of the King 
Charles — he thinks that the extravagant and fascinating 
counter of queens made eyes at his wife ” 

“Ha, ha, ha !” 

“I learned from Don Miguel d’Almeira ” 

“Hush!” said the duchess. 

“What for? None can hear. Beyond that firm rock, 
my true lackeys ” 

“It is not that ! Hark ! the wind, the wind ” 

“It will soon blow over,” replied Donna Jacinta de 
Floriador, carelessly. 

“Do you know that one of the oarsmen in my boat, on 
the way here, said, that a storm was coming, in which 
we should hear the blunderbuss of the angel Gabriel 
a-roaring ” 

“Droll expression ! But why should not the superior 
spirits profit by improvements — ^you would not tie the 
archangel to his sword all these days ?” 

“Oh, what a wind ! Do not blaspheme, prithee, child'!” 


The Storm. 75 

Like the gun fir-ed to commence a comhat, a prodigious 
tihundeTcloud burst overhead. The cliffs shook so as to 
precipitate masses into the waters at the foot, which, 
forced up innumerable channels, 'heaved the ground and 
ran out again, hissing, groaning, gurgling like sio many 
half-drowned animals. 

The canvas at the opening bellied in, floated off the 
hooks, and followed by the three serving men, bewildered, 
gyrating, groping, all were driven into the cavern, up- 
setting the table and benches, heavy though they were, 
putting out the lights, and sprinkling the end of the hol- 
low with the embers. Then came a second gust, luckily 
laden with spray and rain, for it extinguished .the sparks, 
though wetting the women and men. 

“The earth will blow inside out,” said one. 

The other,, on his knees, without daring to get up, 
began reciting the calendar of saints, without omitting 
one. 

The lightning shimmered over the impenetrable clouds 
and died away, vainly trying to leak out of a split. The 
water which had been flung upon the beaoh rolled back 
and met a flurry of rain with an indescribable hissing. 
Through this head-high wall, vague and shifting, forms 
were seen mingling as if the sea had yielded up drowned 
seamen. But it was the women of the village, swamp^ed 
out, huddling up their screaming children in anything 
handy, and racing up the slope. The waters chased them 
and then another gust propelled them hugger-mugger 
into the cavern; this* time M. d’Artagnan’s horse, more 
intelligent than the mules, accompanied the mass and 
blocked up the entrance. Had there been any more 
fugitives, they would have had tO' stay without. 

The two ladies, shielded by the overturned table, had 
not been injured in the least, but were stupefied. The 
younger was the first to recover her wits, literally, for 
she said, in a voice meant to be in bravado to cheer her 
whimpering hearers : 

“That is the heavenly blunderbuss, but it missed fire !” 

This time the duchess did not chide. She, too, sat up 
and forced a laugh at their ludicrous situation. 

“Mercy on us! It is the world's end at last, as he 


76 The Storm. 

prophesied in the ‘Almaniac of the Good Farmer I’ ” said a 
voice. 

Since the eruption of Vesuvius, only ten years previ- 
ously, those evil prophets who abound to the correction 
of the unduly mirthful, delighted in drawing ink from its 
soot to 'write ^‘murkiness to man’’ in the pamphlets cher- 
ished by the populace, and wihich they had read to them 
by the less illiterate. 

''Mother of Mercy, forfend that my husband should be 
on the ;sea !” 

This wish was at the heart of all the fishers’ wives, 
and they set up a wail which would have dispirited a 
bachelor without a heart. But Donna Jacinta was un- 
affected. 

"Lady,” said she to her mistress, "let us pray that he 
may not be exposed to the malice of men ; it is even more 
to be dreaded than this wrath of the skies !” 

"A young sprite 1” muttered Sebio to his fellows ; "but 
she is right. 


CHAPTER X. 

CUNNING A St A DOG. 

Some men are so gifted that they easily become friends 
even with the most uncongenial. One of these was Louis 
of Artagnan. 

Hard drinking was a defect of soldiers then, so much 
so that it was said that all that was gained by the cannon 
went into the cup. But he remained sober, perhaps be- 
cause a southern brain is hot enough already. But while 
sober, this did not, for a wonder, offend boon companions. 
He drew cards and he threw dice seldom, but lost as no 
amateur has the fortitude to do, which made gamesters 
comprehend that he was the player for higher stakes than 
theirs. 

He paid for a fan of price, a jewel, or a yard of lace, 
here and there, but never was he cited as a Hector 
dragged at any Aspasia’s chariot wheel. Come of a 
loquacious people, his prudence made him taciturn ; still, 
he was so capital a listener that the talkative unbosomed 
to him sooner than to one of their numerous fraternity. 

He had not been out twice with the fishers before he 
became a messmate as indispensable as the paper box. 
When, at whiles, the wind blew strong and the tiny shell 
threatened to burst like a roast egg, he had distinguished 
himself by little deeds of timeliness, recklessness, and 
steadiness, which are prime qualities on shipboard. 

Then he was a rough, but prompt sur^on ; a physician' 
who could cure with a limited drug cabinet ; and this en- 
deared him in an age when science was mostly in the 
hands of empirics. 

Through all this novel experience, one thing puzzled 
him : he was among Brothers of the Coast, undoubtedly a 
secret fraternity, comprising all the wanderers who had 
command of the ocean, from the Cape to the Skager 
Riack; but it seemed without a leader. But, like the 
bladder-wrack, the crushing of one bulb did not affect the 
nest; lall were inflated alike; one prominence was not 


78 The Cunning of a Sea Dog. 

more proMinent than the next or the farthest. What 
could a communky be without governor, elder, dean ? 

“Head man?” said his mentor, the modest Pedro, “no! 
but we have a headsman, as you would see if you could 
see a traitor among us/^ 

So D’Artagnan enlarged his field, each time he resumed 
his investigations, after the return to the Petrel, where 
the negress placidly reigned alone over her fire, like a 
seeker after potable gold over his athanor or perpetual 
furnace. 

As the little smack was rarely three days oflP soundings, 
he shipped on larger ones, always with Pedro, his “blood 
brother.” They carried cured fish to exchange for native 
produce along the Algerian coast, making mock of the 
corsairs, and “passed” closely-packed goods ashore in 
Spain under the noses of tihe coast guards, conveniently 
going blind. 

“I could swear that they were ammunition cases,” 
thought the musketeer. “Ho, ho I those whom I heard 
in the interior declare in a bated breath that with arms 
they would stir up a fire the king could not put down — 
they will have their boast put to the test 1” 

One time, homeward bound, D’Artagnan suddenly 
slapped his pilot on the shoulder, and said, heartily : 

*‘Peccavi! I am a fool to go a-sea for what lay under 
my hand 1 Why, it is you who are steward, if not com- 
mander-general, of the Brothers of the Coast 1” 

The ex-host laughed as heartily. 

“I thought you knew it all along, and were playing with 
your fish I” 

“I see the cunning of you sea dogs. Would ever your 
government spy suspect, in a happy-go-lucky, devil-may- 
care slush-tub like you, the admiral of so imposing a 
navy ! No more than that in your head, seeming to con- 
fine no more sense than is in a doornail, the faculties oper- 
ate in perfection which would mar a prince or make a 
peasant. Pedro, thou art a stone for the temple ! thou 
art read by the sermon in you, as the English poet says 
whose play I saw in a visit to London.” 

“At the same time, think you I would give all my 
leisure to trim, shape, and mellow a raw, inapt, intract- 
able ’prentice like you! By the holy thumb-and-finger 


The Cunning of a Sea Dog. 79 

marks on the mackerel ! you are a gentleman of the sword 
from heel to head, and I strongly suspect that you aim, 
not at a sackful of crowns, but at one alone — ^the golden ! 
and consecrated by the great Papa at Rome !” 

“The only imperishable golden crown that a man may 
attain, if he goes the right way about, is that too far on 
high to be my portion, unless I am altered more thor- 
oughly than by your lessons. Dear Pedro, there was once 
a man who made himself wings and flew up, up, up, until 
the sunbeams singed his wings just as he was peering 
through a crack in the ether — he fell down as the deuce 
did.” 

“That luckless wight fell on the land ! Now, had he 
fallen into the sea, a deep cushion, the sea!” — ihe blew a 
kiss over the dancing waves — “he had been living to this 
day. Ah, messire, it is to the hasty climber that comes 
sudden falls. 

“Now, we seafarers hold the head steady to be inde- 
pendent, and no man can be greater than the inde- 
pendent.” 

“You are the wild dog talking to the one who has 
worn the collar,” remarked the king's officer. 

“You look on us draining tihe pannikin of water 
squeezed out of the leach of the mainsail when we cannot 
get Schiedam ; eating oat cake when we have no boiled 
flour bread ; dining on a slice of lard and a broiled hake 
when we cannot do better! All this time we quaff the 
elixir vitae — content !” 

D'Artagnan fixed his eye on the suddenly eloquent 
speaker, without interrupting or mutely criticising by a 
frown or a smile. 

“You are rigiht to keep the hatches battered down ; but, 
if you have not made my acquaintance on a long journey, 
you have in a small inn, and this coffin of a cabin of the 
Xiphias. Why do I confide in you, a stranger? I will 
out with it ! 

“Never since that warlock-priest, in France, Urbain 
Grandier, captivated a whole convent, was a crew of the 
lawless so besotted by a mortal as by your lordship ! You 
have heard the priest tell of another world than the land — 
it is the sea! We who toil on it, and are buried in it, 
are as remote from the landsmen as the people in those 


8o 


The Cunning of a Sea Dog. 

golden galleons which sail above! But the heart is a 
kind of cistus that rock-rose, you know, which clings by 
one thread if all the rest are broken ! 

“We came from the land from which the possessors 
shove us if we linger, after having lightened our pouches I 
So we love the land, in our dreams, anyway ! and we 
want to live on the land, once in a wihile, and die there, 
though we pass too long on the restless billows. 

“I myself, look you, captain ! tended sheep on the 
Odriano Mountains over there, where all are shepherds, 
but the whitecaps drew me out seaward from my flock’s 
white heads. But it comes to me out here that those 
lambs will not grow if the wolves do. The tyrant in 
Madrid wears fleece dyed in our lambs’ blood!” 

“Friend, brother,” replied the chevalier, “the colors of 
a flag are like that dye of old which could not be effaced 
or diluted. The flag we are swaddled in should be our 
winding-cloth. Spain has her castles on the deep! the 
lion’s roar is heard in the beating of the sea on her hun- 
dred shores — ^may we not have a faithful follower of King 
Philip here, where we are of all nations ?” 

“Hark!” said Pedro, after a pause, lifting his eyes and 
his hands to point. “That is an Arragonese. I will let 
him answer !” 

Up on the stumpy mast of the Swordfish, three-master 
xebec, more often seen between Africa and Italy than off 
San Sebastian, a seaman, suspended, spread out like a 
spider in its web, mending the rigging, was singing : 

“If the Dutch or the Spaniard 
Come but to oppose us, 

We will thrust them up at the mainyard 
If they venture to nose us I” 

“But that’s English !” 

“That is his patriotism! of no country, but of all — it 
was all one world when Mother Earth was first heaved 
head up out of the salt water ! A man’s country is any- 
where he is not fleeced. Deus Protector Nestor! that is 
OUT Kapit an- pasha, as the Arabs say !” 

“Why should the sea rush upon shore ?” 

“To wash away the worthless !” 

“With what particular aim?” 

“A sure end! The people have risen against their 


The Cunning of a Sea Dog. 8i 

lieges, but ever their blood has enriched the ground of 
which their enemies took the crop.” 

“Very true ! they rose too soon or too late. You can- 
not sever the bull neck unless you cleave in the very 
nick!” 

“That’s what I say — as well never as to no purpose! 
This time we attempt not, unless we can accomplish !” 

“I suppose these things will be done, and done again, 
as long as there are aspiring men lusting for lording it !” 

“You mistake, brother! me, a king? Nay, nay; I be- 
lieve in taking down tall things, but not in setting up 
small things. Do you know, neighbor, what we Iberians 
are ? capable of managing ourselves on the level. Have 
you not heard the jingle: 

“A noble’s but air, and proud flesh but dust is ! 

It’s we commons make the lord, as the clerk makes the justice!’* 


CHAPTER XI. 

■ 

WIND AND WAVE WAIT NOT. 

^‘Plainly, captain, you propose a popular uprising,’^ said 
the Frenchman. “What after the troubled sea goes 
down? — a dead level, with only wrecks, and no head 
above the calm?” 

“No, let there be a king, as always. But bound in 
hemp O'f our twining, not silken fetters, which courtiers 
contrive.” 

“This is a business which, like your stock fish, requires 
a long soaking !” 

“It’s early and late we have been wishing. We are 
the grandsons of those who saw Portugal its own master. 
The time has come for Fate, as the Moslems say, to suffer 
us to succeed.” 

“What have you thoug'ht out ?” 

“Well, my lord, on the sea we fear nobody, since we 
are everybody. At any port where any warship touches, 
I can call half the company to desert. On land whom 
should we fear ? What is a noble now ? no longer a man 
of brawn who lived cased in brass — ‘lobsters’ feathers,’ 
as the boys say ! a dancing-master ! it is put in the bal- 
lads that your great minister danced a saraband to amuse 
your queen ! They eat their estates at a lick, and haste 
to the court for a perpetual bribe, a fat office! They 
lock free, I grant ye ! but the vdldest and highest of their 
flings is a dog’s in a string ! Do they even live ? They 
cringe, they flaunt, and they caper — so does an Italian 
puppet I and they die like a beast, though on velvet — not 
having done any good !” 

“Have a care!” 

“That’s it ! we have all the cares !” 

“I heard in the south provinces — ^the king’s arm is 
long!’ ” 

“Longer is the arm of the needy ! Before the year be 
out, there will be a deed done betwixt Cadiz and Oporto 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 83 

which will not be painted on the wall of the Hall of 
Spanish Victories at Madrid/' 

“My brother, it is no common danger you are court- 
ing r 

“Without danger one cannot overcome it !" 

D’Artagnian shook his head; this peasant had an an- 
siwer for everything he said. 

“We lack the leader who will answer for everything. 
A general, a chief who can command men " 

“And money ?” 

“Men to begin with, as that we have the most of. One 
who can divert nature and natures to his will — for we 
Portuguese are a stubborn, hidebound folk, who would 
take poision from a brother-hand and not the counter- 
bane from a foreigner. Above all, we want a man who 
will see that the conquerors have the conquest, share for 
share, as the Brothers of the Coast divide.” 

“Have you the forces for such a one to employ ?” 

“Portugal is heaving with impatience, like that sea. 
Half Spain, on the border, through intermarriages and 
intercourse — if only through the smugglers — goods are 
so dear ! intervolutions of petty trades, blighted by large 
merchants' transactions, killing the market for the season 
— now, these are friendly, at the least. If only, if only,” 
went on the innkeeper-statesman, gravely, and fastening 
his eyes in his turn on the musketeer, “Spain were 
threatened on her hither frontier! But her direst enemy 
is a broken serpent ” 

“Cardinal Richelieu a broken man ? You may break a 
serpent, but it will not die until sunset!” retorted D’Ar- 
tagnan, animatedly and with pride. “And not yet is his 
sun gone down !” 

This abrupt, self-betraying enthusiasm confirmed the 
rebel’s conjectures, no doubt; but he beat his broad 
breast, as though pummeling a last doubt into senseless- 
ness, and in a lighter tone went on : 

“I think we may hope.” 

“My comrade, if it were not for hope, the heart would 
break !” cheeringly, but enigmatically, replied the Gascon 
adventurer. 

“You understand,” insisted Pedro, as if he wanted his 


84 Wind and Wave Wait Not. 

hearer to harbor no doubt on his side, “we have the 
force.” 

“Force without forecast is of little use. Hark ye, the 
old Spain, which made the Moors walk the plank into 
Gibraltar Bay, is not so sick that it will not survive a 
bleeding and the cauterization of the inquisition — 'ah, you 
have a tough bone to exercise your square jaw upon.” 

“Tough becomes tender by pounding,” returned the 
sailor, sententiously. 

“The pounding will not be all on one side.” 

“We catchers of fish do not mind a slap or two of the 
sturgeon’s tail !” 

“Well said ; but to the immediate prospect ! Is not that 
what you call a dirty sky ? It occurs to me that the only 
fishing for several days will be the fishing for man, and 
that by Davy Jones, to line his locker !” 

“Brother, none could be more right — ^there will be a 
flagellation of Neptune !” 

“Like that a Persian king gave him for wrecking his 
flotilla? Remember that the lashing did not restore the 
lost ships?” 

“It is on U'S will fa'll the lashes !” said Pedro, solemnly. 

Standing up on the verge of the midships, after blow- 
ing a shrill whistle, he shouted so as to be heard from 
the Swordfish's snout to the farther end : 

“All men on deck ! The king storm of the year is upon 
us!” 

Being a volunteer, the Frenchman had no station. But, 
in spite of the increasing agitation, he kept his seat on 
the rail, murmuring: 

“This tarry sage is right as to Portugal boiling up to 
the brim, like this ocean — ^he may be right as to controll- 
ing more spirits than I reckoned on conjuring up; but 
will it suit our premier to have Portugal rip itself from 
Spain, just to be a larger republic than Venice? I must 
chance all! There is no time to consult France. For 
what would this messenger know of politics ? Meantime, 
if we ride out of this turbulence — it is enough! and 
then ‘Oh, to-morrow !’ as these fellows say !” 

Suddenly to the northeast, whither no one was staring, 
a low boom was heard, and a rumble. Yet the sky there 
was unclouded. 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 85 

“What is that, Pedro? A thunderstorm on the Ad- 
rianos that you spoke of 

“That,” replied the master, studying by listening for 
the reverberation, “that is made thunder — man’s great 
guns, sir !” 

“Why, there is a truce! Spain and France think of 
court balls I” 

“It is cannon, and at sea. I, too, thought the eternal 
foes were pausing, but who can tell the duration of truces 
when treaties last so little long? But we shall hear no 
more out of that quarter. Because why? the wind is al- 
ready tossing the white scud over there, as we look, and 
they must secure the guns or have them dash through the 
side ! We shall be in their midst before long, swept be- 
fore the blast like lamb’s wool over the furze. Look at 
the Swordfish, well-named — ill-omened thing! how she 
bends two ways at once in her foolish elongation ! A pipe- 
stem, absurd as the nautilus in these restless waters. 
They had better have kept her in the soft, inland-locked 
sea, than let her poke her slender snout into the choleric 
Atlantic !” 

The mariner must have been in a bad way to blame the 
deck on which he stood. 

There came up and there sped over in an incredibly 
brief time for so much power to be manifested, a gale 
which should be memorable, but a logbook is written in 
the lull and the calm. Pedro, like them all, soaked from 
head to foot, while his men clung to ropes and were 
twisted in them as the pliant staffs whipped, roared in 
D’Artagnan’s ear, though touching : 

“Still afoot, eh? I thought you might have stepped off 
and walked ashore! Well, that was a lasher, eh? but it’s 
a lady’s fian tap to wibat is coming ! Take advantage of 
the pause to make your peace tighter than those between 
kings ! It is all one now with our schemes and conniv- 
ings ! To think that King Philip will sleep the sounder 
because the poor Xiphias foundered under his guns at San 
Sebastian !” 

The long, narrow, rounded xebec wallowed in the 
trough, when she did not bend between two waves as if 
to break in two ; half the time one-half of her was smoth- 
ered if the other end hooked itself upward. Nothing but 


86 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 


her elasticity saved her. She was so sinuous that she 
seemed a water -snake. The men breathed only at in- 
tervals, when they emerged from 'the weight of water, like 
so many grampuses, rising mid-high to snap at flying-fish. 

‘Tt was a big bait,” thought the musketeer. 'To try 
to secure the Birotherhood of the Sea for my master ; but 
I am a luckless angler, who will be dragged to the bottom 
with my willing catch ! It’s a poor lookout for the 
courtier waking me at the Petrel ! He will not set the 
seal or my old meed as a model of punctuality ! A fine 
representative of Cardinal Richelieu, who is wont to say : 
'Non-punctuality is a kind of falsehood!’ This time I 
shall be an eternity behindhand ! Ah, can ghosts redeem 
debts?” 

Suddenly his very mind, entangled in this sarcastic 
mood characteristic of him, leaped out of it all, and 
spurred his body to action. 

To a man of thoughts, any violent movement was a 
relief. 

By the twisting and wriggling, the seams had opened 
in a score of places, though the timbers kept unsplit. The 
low waist was long since full of water, but at each cant 
some spilt out. But now, as in digging a well, the spade 
strikes a hidden fount, it welled up in the middle like a 
water volcano. 

"A leak! She has sprung a leak!” was the low wail 
from the quivering mouths in those white countenances. 

Pedro stood knee-deep there, unable to retain footing 
on the rounded hatch-wale, but erecting the few but 
imperative operations as if on dry ground. 

Three or four lightly-built fellows,^nife in teeth or 
hatchet swinging from^ a lanyard at the wrist, were furl- 
ing up flaps of sail or cutting away ropes jammed in the 
blocks and apt to work mischief. 

With buckets and salt shovels the rest were bailing out 
the ever-flowing well, indefatigable as the Danaides, but 
as useless. They unfortunately believed in their skipper, 
and his prophecy that this stroke was not the lightest of 
them dashed their ardor. There was only one boat, and 
that was dragging by a rope at the stern. 

The French cavalier had no bucket to seize up. Be- 
side him, however, was a water-breaker, lashed on two 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 87 

rests. With a gigantic effort he wrenched it loose and 
then extricated it from the wet and yielding ropes. Some 
of these remained on it, forming a kind of handle, one 
a side. With this enormous vase he leaped into the pool 
and, calling to a huge seaman, he said, in his loudest 
voice, as if cheering his men in a charge : 

^'To it, boys ! Is the good Xiphias to go down under 
a shower of brine like the ass of the fable, whose bags 
were sopped in crossing the ford? Nay, never believe it 
— ^not when we have yet a work to do ! Cease to call out 
for compassion and Our Lady of Good Succor ! and keep 
your breath for the ’scouse yet to come ! As for this 
wasted pickle, even throw it back whence, it, uninvited, 
came! Don’t take it heavily, because the West Indies 
have breathed us a zephyr ! It will not be as lasting as 
the Grand Seignior’s siege of Cansia, which has lasted 
twenty year without the gallant Venetians talking of giv- 
ing it up 1” 

He sang to the thrumming of the taut ropes as to a 
guitar : 

“Blow the wind never so fast, 

It will lower at the last!” 

‘^Beat on, you blusterer! Never yet did you bully the 
true tar into moaning with the Prophet Job : ^Misereatur 
mep Only to adorn a weeping friar’s grace, but not cut 
into the mainmast foot with a mariner’s hacker !” 

In a flurry hail hurtled on the hard-as-iron waterproof 
caps like a fusillade. 

‘‘Aha !” said the French captain, no less merrily, “are 
we in Pope-town now, with the dames showering candy 
balls upon us ? Faith, the donna who pelted me had her 
hand lately to the suds — that tasted salty ! Oh, it is the 
spice-box holder up above that Don Aquarius, who forgot 
to boil the water in his can ! But bail away, my hearties ! 
bail for your hopes to travel into the nether world with- 
out a pocket of ice! How it would sizzle down there 
and bespatter Abaddon and Company ! Bail away what 
is our haler 

Here the rain fell in a spout, which depressed the headls 
and bowed the backs. 

“Heads up! though the captain himself ducks! Ah, 


88 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 


the chaf arise (Moorish fountain) of fresh water has its 
turn now — the Moor asserts such a sweet-water 
pump stands in the exact center of the Eden — so that we 
now know that we have been swept round to the other 
side from that spot ; and it disproves the philosopher who 
maintained that the world is immovable! I call it a 
bark which now is sailing round the moon ! More sweet 
water — thanks, it will unsour the brine !’’ 

Three men had replaced one another on the other part 
of the cask which he had used as a dipper, but he was as 
animated as at the first. 

“Come, come ; is Jack’s spirit to fall low, as never was 
his trade! Soul of Admiral Noah, older you see, that 
seaman, than your kings and grandees ! If Jack dies, he 
dies. Did not Queen Juno declare that death is the great- 
est boon the gods can give? Nevertheless, I am in no 
hurry to be beholden to the goddess, bless her — and save 
us! Well, we die, chirruping — gay as a gypsy, dressed 
up for an archangel on Corpus Christ! day ! 

“You may fill me with salt water, but never with the 
belief that we were fondly brought into this world to be 
foolishly spirited out of it ! Yet, if we die here, out here, 
look at the fine last laugh we have at them^ — ^the doctor 
can get no fee, and Old Hairy, who hugs his oven a night 
like this, no soul ! So sing — in the name of the Muses, 
sing — to clear your throats to the rattle of the pails com- 
ing up — so, so ! full, and coming — whoop ! empty ! 

“When we are dead, 

We’ll take no heed 

Of what they say behind us !” 

“So, the congregation will join in the chant : 

“So, pitch it out ! 

Now, in ! now, out ! 

And out, and out, and out again !” 

iimpossible to resist this man — this force of nature, 
and good-nature at that. 

“Hark to him, lads !” said Pedro, beaming with satis- 
faction and reinspired like his crew, to say nothing of his 
being delighted at his judgment being confirmed. In his 
sea-going tub he had found a Man ! “This is not one 


Wind and Wave Wait Not. 89' 

born to drown! Stick to him, and we shall be saved 
even as one man at the end of a line may save nine! 
Keep on and baste the ocean with its own sauce!” 
Suddenly the darkness lifted. 

“I spy!” said the Frenchman, “there softly slides the 
sun out again !” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE MESSENGER. 

By one of those meteorological freaks, 'bom to tantalize 
m'an made a football to the elements in strife, there was 
a long break in the vaporous screen above. 

The clouds were in more than one layer, even crossing 
in one case — the two trying to outrace. What had 
passed a point, piled up as if a sudden check had come. 
The broken masses took shapes and the accumulation 
had the air of contending columns of gigantic phantoms. 

The sunlight was of an unnatural tint, like flame seen 
th'rough smoke. In the chasm, dazzling by the contrast 
all around it, Sol appeared, a dull-polished disc, flashing 
down separated shafts to the foaming, spray-plumed 
waters. In this aureole, a myriad birds, like gulls whose 
nests had been disturbed, not all of the sea, flew and 
circled, now low, now high, confused, jostling, fa'lling 
over on their backs to use their claws, falling, and pur- 
sued by ravenous things which the storm had not weak- 
ened in ferocity. They screamed as to the monstrous 
claviobord to which the vessel and its tight rigging might 
be likened, as 'she ceased to roll so deeply. 

To the northeast, once again, the mock thunder was 
heard. 

There were broad flashes, like sheet lightning. 

All looked in that direction, 'against that evanescent 
golden screen, forgetting that, to the west, the enemy 
advanced with reinforcements. 

There was sympathy for man above all other senti- 
ments. 

Two or more ships were seen there, all of clumsy fash- 
ion, low down, as if also water-logged like the Xiphias. 
These had banks of oars, which caught 'tlhe light like 
drops of quicksilver. One or two more, whose masts 
showed like threads, had their sails almost all reefed into 
nothingness. 


The Messenger. 91 

They had flags, but, though these were flat as boards, 
mot'hing could be discerned at this distance. 

“Dutch!” said a grayibeard. 

“Spanish I” said another, as old, but as keen of sight. 

“The galleys are Spanish,” said Pedro, “and so the 
galiot — look at the peculiar square-sail forward, which 
makes her a brigantine. It helps her, too, now ! All are 
Spanish.” 

“Strange, then,” said D’Artagnan, straining his eyes; 
“the bow-chasers of the galleys are firing on their own I” 

“It does look so — >but, no! they are firing past her, 
over her, too, which means good marksmen^ ” 

“See, see — two vessels interlocked ” 

“Oh, ho!” cried Pedro, after a pause, “I know what 
that is — la Frenchman!” 

“French?” 

“What does it look like? A brig and a schooner 
lashed together, stem and stern. But it is one ship, 
that !” 

To the murmur of incredulity, he went on confidently: 
“She was built at Croisic, and they intended her to cruise 
in the Mediterranean ; but they feared the Spanish would 
stop her at the Straits. She would have given them a 
run, though ! Look at her — fit for a head wind, as you 
see her now. And on a side wind, she went a wonder. 
They called her Le Messier, that is ‘The Watcher' — for 
she is a spy and a dispatch boat above all ! With those 
four masts, for that jigger is a mast, though they can 
strike it down ” 

“The three others are not firing on her,” interrupted 
D’Artagnan. 

“So, >tihey are not! Oh, they have driven another 
target between them and the shore, and spite of the 
storm, or rather with its aid, they will wreck her on 
the rocks ! Oh, we are pretty Christians to be so bent 
on destroying a ship exposed to ruin anyway!” 

“At all events,^’ said the Frenchman, seeing nothing in 
the fog and gloom over the land, “it is not a battle be- 
tween these !” 

“Though we cannot see the flying one,” resumed 
Pedro, “she returns the fire, for there are oars without 
holders in the hold. But what do they care for the con- 


92 The Messenger. 

victs? They crack on. I never saw such set effort to 
rack and ruin in my born days!” 

“There is something also wrong with the Frenchman,” 
remarked the musketeer, anxiously. “You understand 
these matters^ — what is ailing her?” 

“Strain! too long and narrow — she lays over us by 
thirty feet and has scarcely as broad a beam ! She has 
broken her back, I fear! But all is one if she is sink- 
ing ” 

“Master, we are sinking!” whispered to his captain a 
slim, frail man, almost a boy, who, from a smattering 
of learning and writing, was the supercargo, purser and 
clerk on hoard the Xiphias. 

This was enough to draw attention from the chase and 
the French craft on the outer edge of the attacked and 
attackers. 

D’Artagnan sighed as he wrenched away his eyes. 

The hold was sounded. 

“Solid water to the false keel,” grimly remarked 
Pedro to the musketeer, whom he regarded as his lieu- 
tenant. “Cease bailing! If we are water-logged, and 
we show no rag aloft, the gale miay overblo^Ar us, since 
we lay so low — ^for these winds glance upward.” 

Perforcedly idle, drifting with hare poles, the helm 
little obeyed, the doomed crew resumed peering toward 
the scene of the strange conflict. 

Reconciled to their fate, their curiosity was irrepressi- 
ble about their neighbors in similar or worse jeopardy. 

All at once, having probably estimated their own state 
correctly, but unable to contemplate with serenity the 
cruel attack on the vessel invisible to the Xiphias, but 
seen by the Messier, the latter fired a gun and ran up 
a flag of great size on the last of its four masts. This 
was clear, as a mass of rain, like a curtain, fell between 
her and the land and caused her outlines to stand out. 
This same cloud entirely veiled the disappeared vessel. 

As if maddened by the first prey balking them, the 
three Spanish trimmed sail and ceased rowing on one 
side, to bring a broadside to bear on this challenger. 

The galleys had long pivot-guns, which were now 
brought to bear on the same point. 

“The flag of France — it looks novel — a kind of special 


The Messenger. 93 

ensign which has no meaning to me. They are at war 
again — (for this is an act of war!” 

“Or of gallantry I If that is a crippled ship, to inter- 
vene on behalf of the stranger is fine I” declared the officer 
of fortune. 

The Messier passed between the galleys, but fired in 
passing, and continued to fire from s'tern-guns in the 
cabin after drawing off. The Spanish brigantine came 
into range thereby, and the two exchanged shots, in- 
effectual on account of the heaving sea. 

The galleys showed a confused, struggling mass in the 
midsihips, like a knot of snakes. The oarsmen had been 
hit hard. They fell off ; the banks of oars were short- 
ened, bodies were thrown over, and they headed round 
as for San Sebastian. 

Short of oars, the chance of reaching that port was 
slight. 

Not to sihare the fate of the unknown enemy, their 
bows were turned seaward, but the wind and the wash 
kept them southeastward. 

The Spanish brigantine found the shooting wild, 
hauled in the guns, closed the ports, secured the long 
guns, and, keeping more out to the sea than the galleys, 
sped along ; but returned from time to time, as if to make 
sure that the disappeared vessel should mot be joined by 
the Frenchman. 

This last had other work to do. 

Strained, as Pedro had perceived, the shock of the 
guns had further injured her. In a kind of despair, 
whidh induces human beings to try to die together, she 
steered for the poor Xiphias, now a-wash. 

Perhaps, thouglh, it was to assist her with its boats, 
which, it could be seen, were being got ready for launch- 
ing. 

The Xiphias showed hardly any freeboard by this. 

“She is buoyed up by wlhat comes in below,” com- 
mented Pedro, grimly. “I am as likely to sit in that 
cabin again as in St. Peter’s chair.” 

“Our boat, I think, is gone,” observed the amateur 
seaman, timidly. 

“Long ago, my gentleman! If those spars will not 
make a catamaran, it will be because they shall have been 


94 The Messenger. 

carried away by the next gust, or splintered to splints 
for broken grasshoppers’ legs !” 

“Are they coming to take us off? Even if we are not 
Spanish, in their eyes, humanity dictates that course. 
Moreover, I will appeal to them in their tongue, and 
I might use a powerful charm.” 

“Who knows but that, in half an hour, they may pre- 
fer the Swordfish' s to their own decks? We are down 
to the edge, but we will float; our cypress planks repel 
water 'like the devil’s coat holy ditto, whereas they have 
pine under them, and that pine of Old Gascony sops you 
up the water like a toper’s tongue the wine ! But, ship, 
boat, or catamaran, we must pull through the second 
stroke of the whip! Manuel, the skipper’s last act of 
duty 1” 

The ship-carpenter had long since made ready. He 
had brought up from below a large, strong, well-oiled 
and copper-banded puncheon. It was about two-barrel 
capacity. It was lengthened strangely by a conical cap 
at each end, like a pocket, one campletely sewed and 
tarred, the other with a slit prepared for drawing tightly 
by a cord. The caps were of stout leather, saturated 
with oil and toughened 'to resist ja)gged joints and cut- 
ting edges. 

The passenger regarded this combination of rounded 
case and flexible pouch with curiosity. 

“The tub ends both ways in a purse fit for a giant 
spendthrift,” commented he. “Are you going to stow 
your silver in it, as the Turk packs up his in saddlebags, 
and confide it to the waves?” 

“I sihall confide our treasure to it !” was Pedro’s calm 
reply. 

“What do you call this thingamy?” 

“A kedge — .the North fishers say kaggi — a barrel used 
as a buoy. The Mediterranean fishermen say, ‘Regulus’ 
cask’!” 

“Oh, Regulus, the Roman general whom the Cartha- 
genians rolled down the mountain side in such a keg?” 

“Save that they drove a few spikes into it and forgot 
to clinch them, so that his descent must have made 'him 
laugh, if he were ticklish !” 

Nobody laughed. It was not a jesting place or scene. 


The Messenger. 95 

“But wihat mountains, save of water, and what Regu- 
lus have you at hand for the rdl down hill ?” 

“Manuel !” called the skipper, without direct reply. 

His supercargo saluted. He was a dreamy, studious 
clerk, resolved for his fate, perhaps, but his sallow com- 
plexion was greenish and unpleasant; his eyes kept flit- 
ting, and .'Watered. 

“Boy,” said the master, solemnly, “you have been un- 
der my eye and band, both tender to you, so long that 
it would take an age to even up. But you can repay 
me in a few hours. You are young, lasting, patient. 
You may survive tossing in that tierce, and be hurled 
upon the shore better than your elders.” 

“Oh, this is our Regulus?” muttered the French envoy, 
studying the student. 

The latter did not relish this narrow means of escape. 
But one could guess that he was glad to escape the all- 
comprising doom. 

“It is but a coffln, but even a coffin may buoy up a man 
— fit, too, the coffln, since it will contain the secret for 
which we were all prepared for the grave.” 

The young man twitched his ears and his dull eyes 
blazed. He seemed to be nearer an end weighing upon 
him. He gave D’Artagnan a brief and not benevolent 
glance. 

“This is a good day,” said he, unctuously, “for an act 
of faith,” wringing his hands ; “the day of the Commemo- 
ration of the Winding Sheet !” 

“It is ?” queried Pedro, scofflngly. “We have hit to a 
dot, lads ! We shall be shrouded in the greatest pall ever 
woven by the Three Grim Spinsters ! Behold the warp !” 

His finger indicated the West. For three parts of the 
vault there was impenetrability. No worlds beyond. 
Incessant rolling of thunder was not once preceded by a 
glint of lightning, and yet such a din i>erpetually threat- 
ened the flash. It was this ceaseless expectancy which 
snapped the nerves. 

Near the horizon, but undulating so as to mislead the 
observer, a grey line was now and again phosphorescent. 
It was the ridge of surge running before the hollow 
where the hurricane scooped up the waters thirty feet 
under. All was churned, seethed, compacted, and yet 


96 me Messenger. 

diffused, rushing 'before the wind at sixty miles the hour. 
Occasionally the gusts outstripped this movable wall and 
smote the turbulence so heavily that it smoothed it into 
oily circles, iridescent as molten metal. Then up-bubbled 
the beaten-under surge, and all became a creamy white. 

Before the great mass of risen waters in the crest of 
mist, like lumps studded with feathers awry, flocks of 
seabirds and schools of fish, interspersed, were tossed 
about and forward, caught as they fell, flung ever onward 
and onward ; hurried to sea, eagles and dogfish ceased to 
catch prey which they could not bear away, and fought 
one another like desperate souls, doing all the hurt they 
could in the sea eddies of Malice; below them in the 
yeast which flecked their glossy sides, porpoises disported 
in the unstable playground. 

The stoutest and ablest seaman quailed, but, imperturb- 
able, Pedro went on : 

‘Tn this casing you may reach land.” 

So deep a murmur of incredulity from the odd sea dogs 
hailed this attempt to cheer that Manuel turned white 
under the chin. 

*Tf you are cast well upon land,” continued the skip- 
per, “slit the hide and recreate yourself with the proven- 
der herein !” 

The cook had fastened within the cask by lashings a 
loaf of bread, instead of the crumb, of which a hunk of 
cooked beef had been substituted, and a bottle of genuine 
Colares, fortified with Guinea pepper and ginger. 

“Thereupon hasten to the Petrel Inn and deliver this 
message to the representative there of Braganza’s lord.” 

The plotter spoke so clearly that it was plain that he 
did not expect any of his hearers but this one would 
survive to disperse itbe information. 

“What message, master?” inquired the supercargo, 
holding out eagerly a trembling hand as for a writing. 

“That the Brotherhood of the Coast are pledged to 
place Braganza on the redeemed throne of their country !” 

“Long live the country !” exclaimed the seamen, with 
bated breath. 

“Amen !” muttered Manuel, with forced emphasis. 

“Ha, ha!” uttered the Frenchman, nipping his mus- 



That knowledge must not go with that dog.' 


See page 97. 


.1 




The Messenger. 97 

tache between his teeth as if surprised, yet expecting this 
announcement. 

“And that France assists, in the person of His Majesty 
of France’s captain of the bodyguard !” 

All started at D’Artagnan, who almost blushed like a 
scholar at this unexpected exposure of his standing. He 
twirled and pulled at his luckless mustache, which was 
often the sole victim of his vexation. 

The publicity pained him. 

But then he shook his head ; after all, this news would 
not travel far. But he liked less than ever that the sole 
porter should be the young and pious clerk. 

“Good !” iwas the word struggling on Manuel’s quiv- 
’ ing lips. “Thrust me into the cask and sew it up !” 

“Stay!” interrupted D’Artagnan, authoritatively. “A 
-joy like you would only go under with the weight of 
that tidings. Let me still carry the secret which I have 
supported for long I” 

All started. Surprised and disappointed in his heroic 
devotion, Manuel wavered. Then recovering and form^ 
irg his purpose quickly, he leaped over the “carcase” of 
xvood and skin, as if disdaining its protection, and stood 
)y the side rail, yelling above the screaming of the gale 
through the shrouds: 

“I commend myself and the traitorous message to the 
deep ! God ’a’ mercy !” 

“Seize him !” shouted the French officer as if he had 
commanded this quaking deck all his life. 

“Hold him !” echoed Pedro, dashing forward. 

Both were too slow. The supercargo had leaped as 
the rollers swelled up to his feet and the scud seethed 
over his head. 

With the quickness of a madman D’Artagnan flung off 
all that might encumber him, kicked off the loose sea- 
boots, shook off the sou’wester, and only pausing briefly 
tr see where the swimmer came up, he bounded out as 
tne waves receded from him, as if shrinking at so much 
headlong intrepidity. In the air his trumpet voice out- 
rode the furious blast ! 

“That knowledge must not go with that dog!” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE THIRD LA*S*H. 

In a trice after his plunge out of sight the last diver’s 
head and shoulders appeared in the surge not far from 
the other’s. The latter shot up and toward him as if 
impelled by a spring or by the desire for self-preserva- 
tion. 

‘‘Arouse!” said Pedro, angrily. “Why not hand the 
captain a rope? God knows we have plenty of trailing 
lines I” 

In a few minutes the musketeer was drawn to the side 
and helped inward. He had caught the cord with one 
hand and with the other retained Manuel with a close 
grip at the nape. He dropped the youth on the slipi>ery 
planks like a caught fish. His fingers were entangled by 
a cord round the man’s neck ; it was a blessed string to 
which was attached a scapulary or similar devout charm. 
Manuel was sick with the swallowed brine — he made but 
a feeble motion to recover his talisman. 

But the glance of venom was not feeble with which he 
visited his deliverer. He shifted the glance upon his cap- 
tain, but the latter’s countenance could not be more for- 
bidding. 

“Body and bones!” exclaimed the captain. “He is a 
traitor! A boy who has drunk from my pocket flask! 
who was nursed out of the black measles in my own 
bunk ! Who has been kept, when with a broken arm, in 
my own inn ! whom I saved from the press-gang of the 
Santa Catarina! Where will faith be found now?” 

“The storm ! the storm !” screamed out a man at the 
tiller, hanging on it for a hold, since it had been aban- 
doned after being lashed firm by the steersmen. His face 
was pale as the luckless Manuel’s. 

“Justice above all, above life and mercy!” returned 
Pedro. “On my hope of salvation we must make an 
example of this runagate! Maybe heaven will let one 
survive to be living witness that the Brothers, in the teeth 


The Third Lash. 99 

of being washed out, did their dutyl Run a line through 
the sheaf at the gaff and let’s have the slip-noose at the 
end tossed hither. I hang him with my own fist, though 
the rope I pulled let loose the very sluicegates for another 
deluge V* 

A thunderous peal responded, without correcting the 
blasphemer. 

Meanwhile, D’Artaguan had shaken himself and 
donned a shirt and over jacket not much drier than his 
discarded garments. 

“Dear friend, a little more wet will not hurt one who 
will never more be dry again — or be too dry! Look at 
this!” 

He had profanely turned the scapulary inside out. It 
contained a stamped leather cross of St. James, bearing 
the letters “S. H.” 

Meanwhile the noose had been fitted to the clerk’s 
neck, following the red weal made by D’Artagnan’s tug- 
ging at the necklace when seizing his prey. 

“Expound!” cried the musketeer, knitting his brow. 

Manuel replied only with the insulting silence of de- 
spair. 

“S. H. is the Santa Hermandad/' interpreted Pedro, 
hastily. “The Holy Brotherhood^ ” 

“The Inquisition?” said the passenger, twirling the 
token in his fingers as if it scorched them. “Oh, this is 
a brother, is it — ^holy !” 

“Yes, they are brothers, as Cain was a brother,” 
sneered the captain of the vessel. “Ready to bowse 
him up !” 

A gunshot was heard to leeward. 

In spite of the wind the Frenchman had made progress 
toward them. 

“She signals,” said a seaman, laughing, “for a pilot !’^ 

“Very well,” said Pedro, dryly, “hoist away! Here is 
the pilot to Perdition port, whitiher we are all bound !” 

Whereupon twenty pairs of hands drew up the body. 
Whatever the wild seamen’s unanimity in thought, it is 
the rule, on a free cruiser, to put all hands into every deed 
so that none may turn king’s evidence as less concerned. 

Throttled b^ a sailor hanging to the feet to prevent 


100 


The Third Lash. 

their convulsions also, consciousness was immediately lost 
and the figure swung violently, but limp. 

The spasm might be merely the vibration of the twist- 
ing strands. 

Angered at this apparent contempt to its demands, the 
stranger fired a gun which was shotted ; yet not to strike, 
one may suppose; but it ricochetted on a heaving wave 
just as the Xiphias gave a plunge and recovered slowly, 
and the bullet, cutting a piece of iron firming the 
shrouds, sent it flying. It cut the rope like a bar-shot 
and the body fell into the waves. The sailor who had 
clung to the feet, fell on the rail by a clever jerk of the 
body and drew himself inboard. 

As if that shot had burst the reservoirs overhead the 
volume of rain descending was incalculable, allaying the 
turbulence ; but close on its detonation was heard a more 
powerful roar — the winds were hurling all before them 
as they made the final charge in this battle, and the two 
other onsets were skirmishes. 

The Frenchman had seemed about to run down the 
three-master, but this blow separated them like two puff- 
balls. The water-logged one was lifted so high that tor- 
rents gushed out of unsuspected gaps and fissures, and 
she spilt half her deck-wash. The terrible friction en- 
gendered electricity in superabundance. 

“The Candles of St. Elmo” topped the broken mast- 
stumps and wandered, like corpse-lights in a cemetery, 
over the ship, again submerged. 

Once more sihe rose, like a swimmer trying to cast off 
the water mantle ; it was the last effort of inherent buoy- 
ancy. 

It seemed as if she would sink with her masts held up 
by the wind) in the sails, tom loose and half unfurled ; but 
the attempt only broke them a second time — ^near the 
deck, which was covered with the long splinters and the 
snapped rigging in inextricable confusion. 

As if that weig^ht were too unbearable, the sheer hull 
rolled and sank slowly, severing some ropes and tearing 
all free from the spars. Over this network and rude 
raft clambered, in and out of the next to impenetrability, 
several stripped and desperate figures. Others had 


The Third Lash. loi 

caught blindly at trailing ropes and were caught by them, 
like serpents, and were dragged under. 

The giant of storm-s, which the first Portuguese navi- 
gators saw off the Cape of Good Hope, had struck again 
with his cat-of-a-thousand lashes, and the Xiphias was 
no more. 

One would have thought the supercargo’s death was 
avenged. 

‘‘Is it possible it is you?” gasped D’Artagnan, nearly 
nude, and lacerated and stripped as if really from under 
a flagellating friar’s whip. “That was a buffeting !” 

In a creature, stripped likewise, but for the struggle of 
one against the elements, coated with green slime from 
the bottom of the Xiphias, which, in rolling, had given 
him a keelhauling, D’Artagnan recognized Pedro; but 
his voice was just a voice, expressing nothing of the joy 
he should have felt at mere existence. 

“Never did I hear of the like since Hercules split the 
mountains between Spain and Africa and made those 
pillars bearing his name !” 

“It is nothing,” replied the impassable 'sea rover. 
“Wait for the third stripe!” 

“I prefer not. But I am afraid we cannot change our 
seats as easily as the members of the Parliament of 
Paris.” 

“I feel as if I had gone rt>und a water wheel of Segovia 
Aqueduct,” groaned Pedro. 

“I have ceased to ache! I could not feel a whip of 
scorpions ! I shall never need body armor ! I am proof ! 
The worthy court doctor to His Majesty, King Louis 
XHI. once told me that in every man is the ‘witch’s spot’ 
— you may stick a bodkin in it and the victim is insensible 
to pricks — well, I am one whole spot like that ! Pinch 
me, brother, that you may test the story !” 

In this instant he made no secret that he enjoyed the 
intimacy of court functionaries. 

Pedro did not heed his complaint or request, he was 
looking, with the good captain’s fatherly eye, upon the 
three masts clinging together and bearing only these 
two corpse-resembling men. 

“Not a man left!” moaned he, looking further as well 
as the spray would allow, floating thickly in the agitated 


\io2 The Third Lash. 

air. ‘‘I dou'bt that those galleys ever made port, crippled 
as they were 

“But our Frenchman? I wonder why I have a partic- 
ular weakness for that Frenchman, though she fired on 
us!” said the musketeer. 

“The heach from the port to little Salinas will be 
embroidered with the wreckage, like fretwork, and the 
dead, like pearls !” 

“And the Frenchman?” repeated the other, staring 
about in the mist. 

“She wanted a pilot, did she not? Hence, the coast is 
new to her! What chance has she, then, when, down 
there at Oporto, I can see the forlorn craft trying to 
beat out seaward, unable to attem-pt the bar? I would 
not navigate the constellation of the sihip into a celestial 
haven on a night like this !” 

“Oan we do nothing to make head against this third 
attack, that you unerringly foretell?” asked 'the soldier, 
quickly, fearing that they could converse little longer by 
the ominous whistling and soughing of a coming wind. 

“Nothing that I know of, but what I am doing — lash- 
ing myself to a pole and trusting to the saint having 
care of her own. Louis or Pedro, I doubt if one has a 
better chance than tlhe other. We may be trundled 
ashore with some of our limbs unshattered. Oh, for a 
toothful of that good liquor which that double-faced 
purser sucked out of the bottle to put in that treacherous 
message ! What a master of divination are you to per- 
ceive his falseness ! I would have trusted Manuel with 
my life !” 

“At present, that is little to trust any with ! If the In- 
quisition had ten thousand familiars of thait type, which 
I doubt not, your -scheme to detach Portugal from its 
clutch would be -a (harder task than from Spain.” 

“If, my young friend,” returned the Portuguese, pater- 
nally, “you should learn that, to conquer, politics must 
only act when religion is asleep or glutted. Now, the 
Inquisition does not sfleep; and as Portugal has been 
totally rinsed of the M>oors, the Jews and the infidel 
generally, I consider it is digesting its spoil.” 

D’Artagnan did not carry on the debate or stop to 


The Third Lash. 103 

praise his congener for his profundity of statecraft, for 
ithe sea horses were once more galloping down. 

Again that bellow on high, which was the more terri- 
ble as the lightning did not sihow through the mass ol 
clouds ; the 'wave advanced like a tidal one ; the line was 
not perfect ithis time, for each crested billow seemed in- 
tent on outstripping its fellow by tum'bling over it. 

'Columns of rain grated twenty feet high and resem- 
bled Scythians standing on their horses in a mad charge. 

^ “B'rother,” said the skipper, with humor, “my poor, 
pickle-herring brother, it is none too soon to be packed 
up in your cask !” 

Spite of all, the curious puncheon had remained by 
their side, secured, though the fastenings could be re- 
lieved instanter, with seaman’s accuracy. 

“Not me — you !” expostulated the Frenchman. 

“No, you have the wit — *the power to redeem poor 
Portugal I 'Save yourself to save her !” 

“We should draw for it, then!” 

Pedro picked up two ropes’ ends, severed by the storm 
as by shears. He 'held them in his closed hand, the ends 
protruding. D’Artagnan drew, with emotion. 

“You have won, my French gallant!” cried the other, 
merrily. “And you will win, as I should not ! Into the 
cask of salvation !” 

“Inasmuch as there are no spikes,” stammered the 
musketeer. “For, as the clothes I scantily retain, are 
riddled and frayed, a few more rips and I should appear 
indecently before Queen Amphitrite !” 

He plunged feet foremost into the odd buoy, like an 
Eskimo entering his night pajamas, whereupon Pedro 
closed' the slit with the knittle, or drawing-string. He 
clapped the sonorous bulge merrily, and rolled it into 
the side where the careening made it a-wash. As he 
launched it, or rather had but to let go for it to tumble 
off, he vociferated. 

''Bon voyage, monsieur T 

D’Artagnan did not reply, for 'he would not have been 
heard. Besides, he was beaten down into the wallow 
as if Niagara had descended on his singular life-pre- 
serving case. 

Pedro could not wait for its reappearance. At that 


104 The Third Lash. 

instant the tornado gathered all its ferocity to make the 
last stroke. Lightning blast, and rising sea all united. 
In the triple Shock the stumps flew out of the sockets. 
The disrupted deck split into separate boards. Pedro 
slid on the last one parting, blinded, deafened, stunned, 
into the -boiling caldron, and the vortex sucked him 
down, down! 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LODESTONE OF FRIENDSHIP. 

Storms are sometirnies proportioned in their duration: 
by 'tiheir violence. Those which cross the Atlantic are 
tropical in this respect. 

Hours after the last three blasts, as foretold by the 
experienced Pedro, over the sea a calmness reigned. 
The douds condensed and fell in sheets. 

This fall appeased the waves and spread an oily film 
which grew more even each moment. 

The crescent moon sailed serenely in larger and larger 
lakes of azure, and caused the drip from the inundated 
cliffs to resemble silvery cascades. When the under- 
mined rocks dropped from the edges, they sent up jets 
of spray, glittering as if diamonds had been unearthed 
and were sprinkled about by the Naiads’ 'hands. In other 
pllaces, great masses of seaweed, dredged out of depths, 
trailed down from where they had been loftily flung and 
burst their grape-like bulbs with crackling, like twigs 
burning. 

Between rocks, fragments of tim'ber stuck up as if a 
dying warrior had planted his standard there before 
giving up the ghost. Rags of sailcloth seemed to en- 
velop dead bodies, while the really dead were wantonly 
dhasing each other in little whirlpools. 

Ropes wound round pinnacle rocks, iron bolts were 
stuck in honeycomibed piles like pins on a paper; deck 
guns were mounted in inaccessible points half way up the 
Bluffs. 

It was like a Titanic battlefield, along the shore, where 
a facetious giant had amused himself by fantastically 
arranging the ruins. 

San Sebastian had been badly damaged. One of the 
■towers on the Mole was headless. Under the truncated 
mass, the least of the two galleys had been wrecked in 
trying to steer through the narrow entrance. The other 
had slipped in previously, but was aground under the 


io6 The Lodestone of Friendship. 

Fiscal Office; its prow was run into the wall, and out 
of the windows the clerks could peer into the splintered 
hold, where the 'broken chains of the slaves crossed' the 
seats in confusion. 

The ship which conveyed them, in despair of enter- 
ing after the galley closed the gorge, had stood out to 
sea. It might be weeks before she brought in news of 
herself. 

The long and snaky Frenchman had gone to pieces on 
the Moor’s head, a black rock conspicuous at the time 
but worn later to a fragment, little recalling the shape 
which won the title. It was two miles east of Salinas. 
Being armed for war, its magazine had caught fire, per- 
haps from lig^htning, and 'the half out of water was 
burned to the edge. 

Before she ran among the reefs, the commander had 
carefully confided to his own gig a passenger of special 
charge, with a picked crew under his next officer. 

lixdeed, the latter passenger was the cause of the 
Messier (for Pedro was correct) being dispatched on this 
fatall expedition. 

Even on a warship, at the dread interval which a boat 
is singled out to try to save one from the impending 
doom, a murmur may be heard at a choice being given 
when the spectators, though of a time and country where 
aristocracy ruled in everything, are equalized before 
death. 

But they gladly let the passenger depart, 'believing him 
the Jonah. 

The ‘‘send-off” was an ironical cheer. 

It could not be said that he and the officer, who occu- 
pied the stern-sheets with ithe four oarsmen, felt any 
superiority in being detached from the ship. The cockle- 
shell had little more Chance of salvation unless the hur- 
ricane should scorn ks insignificance. 

“The Jona'h” did not look his part. He was a m^an 
of fortitude. When under the Spanish fire he had borne 
himself like an old soldier, always a philosopher. He 
had kept on deck, in spite of the captain’s remonstrance. 
His very tall and broad form, well above the bulwarks, 
kept erect even when a ball whistled among the rigging. 
Yet with hi's brown and ruddy complexion, contented 


The Lodestone of Friendship. 107 

eye, frequent smile and springy step, tie had more the 
mien of a rural squire than a martial leader. 

When the storm struck its successive and increasingly 
severe strokes, he had borne him/self as one whose life 
had created none of the terrors presented by death to 
him who has a troubled course. 

Bluff, broadly merry, drinking twice to others’ once, 
eating like the fabled gormandizers, he was the cabin 
jest — but not in his hearing. 

“He is deported for fear he will breed a famine in 
France!” declared the table wit. 

However, a personage of no importance would hardly 
have had 'the dispatch-^boat set aside for landing him 
secretly in Spain. 

He was entitled, in a special passport, which placed 
all the readers, loyal Frenchmien, at hiis orders, “the 
Knight of du Vallon de Bracieux et de Pierrefonde 
but the captain, a noble cadet, assured his brother officers 
that this triple title must be of ilate creation, as he had 
never heard of it at court. 

When the third outburst of elementary wrath smote 
the Xiphias and the Messier, and reduced the former to a 
hull and three bare poles dissevered from their roots, the 
latter was driven ashore and converted into portions which 
an able-bodied wrecker might convey severally away on 
his back, the Knight of the Vallon had simply fallen 
asleep in the open boat, as if his large cloak were water- 
proof and his feet, in the water at the bottom, were 
turned to the chimney fire. He snored, while the officer 
vapored. 

“Tinis is a numbskull or a sage,” observed the lieu- 
tenant. “Bail her out, boys — she would ride heavily 
enough without this man-mountain, for she has shipped a 
hogshead of brine !” 

Ignorant of the country, as Pedro had guessed from 
the Messier seeking a pilot, the officer could only search 
for a suitable place to land. For a long time, particularly 
in the darkness following the sinking of the moon and 
preceding the sunrise, the shore was unapproachable. 
The water continued to be thrown up and returnetd, ac- 
companied by the torrents from the rain ; the cliffs were 
furrowed; stones pelted down, and landing would have 


io8 The Lodestone of Friendship. 

been more at the hazard of a broken head than of drown- 
ing. 

Finally, day breaking and a comparative calm succeed- 
ing-, they saw (the headland guarding Las Salinas. 

In this cove the accumulation of wreckage was ap- 
palling. In one part it assumed the appearance of a 
breakwater, made not by man, but amphibious animals, 
such as a sea beaver, if possible. Elsewhere planks and 
beams supported the dead. Fish were warring for them. 
Ashore there were human remains tossed so high that 
they could not be reached without a man were lowered by 
a rope from the edge. 

All were beyond hope of revival. 

The distance was short, but currents and swirls made 
their best efforts, tired and famished, often a mockery; 
they advanced tediously, only to lose swiftly the stretch 
they had gained. 

Had they been bereft of human pangs, and had they 
no plaguing thoughts about their shipmates, they might 
have gazed fascinated' at the beauty of the scene in the 
rosy light. 

Everything had its iridescent halo as the mists rolled 
away, and suddenly it disappeared under the solar heat. 
The water was blue, flecked by white where the sand and 
froth clustered ; the scales of tiny fish in shoals glistened 
near the surface ; the bubbles broke on the algae ; small 
and large crabs gleamed green in clumps of seaweed. 
Ropes had been reeved through the pierced rocks; they 
streamed down from tall peaks. 

A battered ship’s figurehead was perched in a pulpit- 
like rock, seeming to address the floating objects. 

Now and then, in gaps, the landscape could be seen on 
the high land, but it was lonely, though gladdened with 
the recent rains. 

'‘Not an honest windmill to be seen !” sneered the of- 
ficer. 

Alarming noises sounded along the strand ; water seek- 
ing exit by innumerable holes, choking, gurgling, hissing 
and roaring. 

A poet would have said a young Triton was practicing 
on his conch-horn. 

Our lieutenant was not poetical. 


The Lodestone of Friendship. 109 

‘‘Give way, lads ! let us ^et to land.*' 

But, beside the natural breakwater composed of fallen 
rocks, and trees, and rubbish, formidable jetsam and 
flotsam arose. The worst was the stuff half-submerged, 
which might smash, perforate, and rend the boat’s bot- 
tom, before seen. 

“Cease rowing! Back-water for your lives! It is a 
grampus V* 

Close under the prow, as if they had indeed started up 
a marine monster, a glistening, greasy, scratched, and 
lumpy round object surged up. It was like a basking 
shark or porpoise, stranded, and wallowing out to sea by 
instinct. It seemed to have been impaled, but was only 
hooked on to a long spar, draggled with seaweed, which 
had weighed it down under the surface. The boat’s mo- 
tion having altered the balance, this mast shook off some 
of the weed, and all of the mysterious burden, which, as 
stated, swam nearer the surface. 

“It is a hogshead of rum !” said a sailor, smacking his 
brine-blistered lips. 

“It is no whale — it has no eyes, and the body is cedar 
staves,” said the officer, ashamed of his error. 

“Rum?” echoed the man at the bow, who had ex- 
changed his oar for a boathook, “it is a barrel, but no 
liquor is in it ” 

By a fortuitous dab, he had entangled his gaff in the 
draw-line uniting the slit in the leather hood at one end of 
the cask. His tugging loosened the opening flaps, chafed 
during a vicious tossing and thumping, and, to the aston- 
ishment of all, a human face appeared at the orifice. 

The Great Kraken would not have more appalled them. 

Some crossed themselves ; some drew in their oars, as if 
contamination were in the touch. 

The rare buoy slewed round and came beside the boat 
just when the passenger, awakened by the stoppage, 
opened his eyes. He faced the face of the apparently dead 
form. 

He sat up straight, hushed and paralyzed by more than 
the others’ wonderment. 

“That — ^that is alive!” said he, like one who sees in 
reality what had been in his dreams. 

“To be sure it is alive — pardyT ejaculated the lieu- 


no The Lodestone of Friendship. 

tenant, these natural words breaking the uncanny spell. 
'‘In with the poor devil, though I expect he is a galley 
slave who has adopted the old device of a beer cask to 
make his escape from the chains !’^ 

“Slave?"' echoed the personage; “a slave, with a sword 
girdled on !” 

“Why, no — not a slave ! A slave would not be armed, 
and, 'besides, this is a good Christian — the blade has a 
cross-hilt 

Two of the men, climbing out on the spar, and two, 
leaning over the boat’s gunwale, had tried to lift the sin- 
gular life-preserver, but, more sensibly, two more in the 
boat had grasped the man by the armpits and lugged him 
clean out and into the French boat. 

Their keen eyes perceived the bottle in its lashings, 
and they dosed him, after prying open his set teeth, with 
a generous portion of the fiery contents. 

They bathed his temples and moistened his lips. Froth 
appeared on the latter ; breathing, which had been inter- 
mittent, became regular. The eyes were unsealed, as if 
they had 'been incrusted. 

The passenger, who had watched all this resuscitation 
with quieitude, convinced that the work was in com- 
petent and experienced hands, began to assume a glad 
wonder, deeper than the mere restoration of a fellow- 
Chris>tian might justify. He drew a long breath, held in 
suspense, with final relief, and lifted his sonorous voice 
into a kind of roar, like a lion perceiving its mate scram- 
bling out of a trap. 

“By St. Hubert’s horn, it is D’Art ” 

Prudence checked him. 

As if this recognition were all the almost-conquering 
death had lacked to relax his chilly grip, the musketeer 
captain moved in every muscle ; as if electrified, he sat up 
among the administering arms, and glared straight at the 
speaker, ignoring all the others. His voice pealed, almost 
as lusty ; 

“The saints are good to us ! Yes, it is I, Porthos, who 
live ! to see the best treasure of God, a true friend !” 

And, rising both, the younger helped by the strength 
of the other, the two embraced, like heroes in Homer. 


CHAPTER XV. 

UNDER THE DUCAL CROWN. 

*T think the salt water has made my eyes weak/^ apol- 
ogetically said the lieutenant, blinking. 

In the circle of friendship one forgets statecraft, minis- 
terial imbroglios, cabals and even, though warriors, com- 
mon prudence. Fortunately, there were none but French- 
men about. 

The Messier’s survivors looked guardedly at the pair 
so marvelously united, divining that the newcomer was 
at least as important as the one charged to them by the 
highest authority of their country. 

But the two, on conversing — since D’Artagnan rapidly 
recovered' — did so in a low itone ; steering clear of the spar 
and its dead passengers the boat was directed to the shore 
by the resuscitated, who was the faultless pilot. 

Once they stopped ; a corpse blocked their path. The 
musketeer eyed it curiously. It was none of his ac- 
quaintance ; it was a galley slave, in fact. How came it 
so far, to float cheek-by-jowl with him? Who can tell? 
Storms have these grotesque surprises. 

They touched shore under the bluff, where the 
smoothed sand was soft as down, yet had abraded ada- 
mantine rocks over night. 

'‘Orders, sir?’’ asked the coxswain, ruefully, after all 
were out of the boat and stamping to supple their limbs. 

“Finish the food and spirits, but be sparing of the lat- 
ter till you have eaten. We must find out the fate of our 
ship, first thing. Haul up the boat out of reach of the 
back-wash, and, as soon as we can, we will make a search 
along shore.” 

D’Artagnan was greatly restored, but it was thank- 
fully that he leaned on his friend’s arm. 

“Stay, lieutenant,” said he, quietly but firmly, “this is 
a hostile shore, truces and treaties to the contrary ! Any 
castaways from your warship become prisoners of war by 


1 12 Under the Ducal Crown. 

the fact of their being within the royal bounds. And 
with them, you all will be lodged in the calaboose T 

“That is a fact,” said the Lord of the Vallon, “but, 
anyway, I order you to obey my friend, the captain ” 

The musketeer came to his friend’s help. 

“Yes, I am captain in the royal army; but I am the 
Caballero de Gannarta here, all the same !” 

Like most men, the lieutenant, made chief, wanted to 
enjoy (his timely promotion. He was a slave to routine 
and discipline. 

“M. du Vallon,” returned he, “I know you only as a 
state passenger on the Messier, accredited from the Min- 
ister of State. The directions were precise that you were 
to be landed at a place called Las Salinas, which it ap- 
pears we have reached. Good! my task is completed as 
regards your lordship. Pray let me go on with my own 
task, imperatively imposed, to save my shipmates. It is 
the holiest duty. Besides,” he arrogantly added, “as I 
stand, I am lihe first officer of the Messier's complement. 
Consequently, these men take orders from no one but me ! 
I am the king’s officer ” 

“Did you not hear .that this officer is the king’s cap- 
tain 1” 

“Sir, a ship captain of the navy ranks with a colonel,” 
persisted the obstinate man. 

Du Vallon looked confounded. 

“Attention!” said D’Artagnan, without irritation. He 
had been investigating his rags of clothing and had found 
what he sought. Next his skin was a waterproof case, 
slung round his neck by a porpoise hide lace. “You will 
please look at this, after which obedience to me follows !” 

Within the inclosure was a sheet of fine linen paper, 
for which the paper mill of Angouleme had fame, deco- 
rated with two seals, caught between folds for the better 
protection. Apart from the close body of the writing 
were several scrawls — the signatures. The naval lieu- 
tenant fastened his eyes on the potent lines while the 
bearer read: 

Know, all subjects and allies by these writings, that the bearer 
does thus for the weal of the realm and under our order. 

(Countersigned) Richelieu. (Signed) Louis. 

The guarded seals were those of the Crown and the 


Under the Ducal Crown. 113 

Minister’s office. Utterly submissive, the officer bowed 
to the arms of the duke, three golden chevrons on an 
azure field, more reverently than to the lily flower. 

“Stay! there is a post-scriptum/' proceeded the mus- 
keteer, hurriedly, being a superior man who wished not 
to enjoy a petty triumph. 

Pointing to a line farther, he let the lieutenant read for 
him-sclf : 

Approved, for the Clergy and the Faithful. 

^ Arm AND Jean (Cardinal). 

The lieutenant, who was devout, made the sign of the 
cross, hardly preceptibly, from long practice. D’Artag- 
nan smiled : the second barrel had brought down the 
game. But he was not yet done, and Porthos opened his 
eyes more immoderately than the officer’s on hearing his 
friend read from a vellum fly leaf this Omnibus warrant : 

To all Officers of France, support the Bearer as he bids, in all 
Ways, and for acquittance, apply to Duplessis de Richelieu. 

Under the ducal crown appeared a monogram or hiero- 
glyphic, which the naval officer might not have known 
save by hearsay; but he had not required this to obey 
implicitly. 

“Your orders, Caballero de Gannarta,” said he, salut- 
ing as if the issuer of the comprehensive mandate stood 
before him. 

“You are brave. You are a thorough seaman or never 
would you have brought your eggshell to a solid land in 
a storm like that. I owe my life to you. I make you 
captain as far as my power goes and I will have the pro- 
motion confirmed in time. I shall forget myself badly 
when I forget you.” 

“And I likewise,” said Du VaUon, laying his huge 
hand over his heart. 

“Beyond a doubt the Messier is lost. For I know this 
coast. If any poor fellows are saved they will be in San 
Sebastian fort by this. Beach your boat as you intended, 
turn it upside down and take repose underneath it. When 
you are rested you will be found by some charitable 
women, fisher-wives^ who will bring you comfort. Come 
you on, Porthos,” continued he, glad to get the robust 
arm to assist his climbing the cliff. 


114 Under the Ducal Crown. 

But on going only a few feet ihis head swami. Even 
that iron frame had been strained to the utmost. 

“Provoking ! I cannot go up the highland/' grumbled 
he. “And there is nothing like a path along the beach.” 

“How unfortunate! Those brave lads will want all 
you promise them from the village. And, I own, I could 
resume the nap I snatched in that pinnace last night I” 

“A nap of four or five hours’ duration I But, it is true, 
some one must get to Las Salinas quickly 1” 

“Are you at home there?” 

“As much as one can be at home where it is not his 
country I” 

“Ha, ha ! D’Artagnan has his castle in Spain 1” 

“If it is not a castle I own, it is an inn 1” 

“Verily, at this pinch, an inn is more to my taste than 
a castle, for I hear that proud Spain has many a lord 
indifferently housed.” 

With knitted brow D’Artagnan drew the lieutenant 
aside to confer with him. As the result two of the stout- 
est marines converted two oars into litter poles and slung 
a strip of canvas between them. It was a sort of portable 
tenter-bed. In thiis couch the musketeer laid himself, 
and, with Du Vallon to relieve one porter at need, they 
deviously edged the strand. 

But the sailors did not stumble where the most experi- 
enced chairman might have done, and no Landes shep- 
herd on his stilts could have meandered so dexterously 
among the pools. Though slowly, progress was made 
surely. 

Their slight refreshment had alleviated the men’s suf- 
ferings, and they carried their burden like a porcelain 
idol, impressed with the belief that the triple power of 
premier, duke, and cardinal was lodged in no common 
individual. 

Finally the little party came out on the strand of 
Salinas proper, where D’Artagnan alighted ; cramps tor- 
menting him on the carriage, had vanished by this time. 
He breathed in relief and gratitude. 

“I am worth ten dead men yet,” said he, in reply to his 
companion’s mute and pathetic appeal. “Look, that is 
the signboard of my inn, the Kuril, that is, the Black 
Petrel.” 


Under the Ducal Crown. 115 

^ ‘‘I see the sign/’ returned the other, with moistening 
lip ; *'but as for the inn, my sigjht is altogether out. I am 
afraid that the gale blew it away, with the last flitch of 
bacon and cask of red wine !” < 

‘‘That could not happen, as my inn is all cellar — dug in 
the firm ground, in that cliff side.” 

“There! that? a hole! Oh, are those your hostlers? 
I congratulate you on such strapping fellows ! what must 
your butler be?” 

“Strapping fellows !” repeated the musketeer, amazed. 
But immediately spying Donna Jacinta’s servitors, he 
added: “Spanish! Back under cover! they are sol- 
diers !” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE musketeer's WARRANT. 

“Now, may all the fiends !” broke out Porthos, looking 
black at this hindrance to his dining at his friend’s inn. 

“Do not waste breath in oaths, but let us deliberate.” 

“Agreeable, but it would be more so in your cellar !” 

Once ensconced in the rocks, they continued their ob- 
servation while discussing. 

“What the pest are sentries posted at my tavern for?” 
grumbled Pedro Bitts’ successor. “I left nothing but a 
fat negress to guard the pots and pans.” 

“Spain is a kind of enchantment,” Porthos remarked, 
chewdng his drooping mustache, in default of more sub- 
stantial nourishment, as a horse champs the bit. “Only, 
it is not two or three strapping varlets who are going to 
keep a hungry and a tired traveler from an inn, particu- 
larly when it is a friend’s ” 

So saying, he drew his long and heavy sword, a little 
glued in the scabbard by the salt water, which, through 
all, he had kept with that tenacity distinguishing soldiers 
when hand-to-^hand encounters were common. “I and 
Balizarde will have a word to say on that head — I mean, 
on those pikemen’s heads !” He tapped the hilt familiarly. 

“Stop, stop, friend Porthos ! Your precipitancy always 
ruins things!” Du Vallon turned to stone at being 
blamed for headlong ardor. “Even matrimony has not 
tamed your impetuosity. Hotspur that you are!” 

“Oh, I am a Hotspur, now!” 

“If only my black stewardess would come out for a 
stroll, or to gossip with the fishwives, or some of them — 
what do I see !” 

“The enchantment continues,” murmured the other; 
“the cave becomes a grotto, and the negress a necro- 
mancer — at least, that is a fair and young princess !” 

“My patron, king, and St. Louis !” ejaculated D’Artag- 
nan, his gaze riveted on the figure enframed in the inn- 
cave’s entrance ; “what is she doing here ?” 


The Musketeer’s Warrant. 117 

'‘Do you know the princess? but is my vision double? 
I see two of them, and both beauteous 

“My friend, I cannot think that both those dames were 
wafted hither by the storm, as they would not come from 
seaward — but, certainly you see, incredible as it be, her 
highness, Luisa, Duchess of Braganza !’* 

“It’s a queenlike form!” 

“And that other, her alter ego ” 

“An altar angel! I understand your Latin now!” 

“Her confidante, her camerista, as they say here! the 
Lady of Floriador I” 

“But the Princess of Braganza is a leading lady at the 
Spanish Court — at the Escurial — ^her husband is a kind 
of vice-king to the shadowy Philip !” 

“Precisely so. But what brings her to my inn, in this 
out-of-way place? — it must be Providence!” Thinking 
of what Richelieu had said about Providence, a new idea 
struck him. “Is this the envoy I was to meet? Pooh! 
she cannot bring money! poor as proud! Rather, the 
plotting duke needs more than they scrape together if he 
schemes to — Porthos, I begin to believe that when one is 
plucked from the deep, it is to be firmly placed on the 
highland ! Fortune goes by-" — ” 

“Fever! you are in for a fit! how flushed you are, and 
you tremble !” 

“Goes by extremes, I was going to say.” 

The seamen stood aloof, ashamed and puzzled at two 
swordsmen letting a couple of footmen daunt them and 
stay them from a reveling-house. 

“My lads, compose yourselves for a space. I promise 
you a skinful of wine, and bread and meat to ballast it. 
So, for your comrades ! In the meantime, as I want to 
know the ground for operation, tell me your story, 
Porthos.” 

“Luckily, it is a brief one,” said the other French- 
man, buckling his belt a hole or two tighter and heaving 
a cavernous sigh, while fixing his eyes on the inn-mouth, 
“for I can never tell a long one without wetting the 
whistle. To begin with, I was in tedium, on one of my 
estates 

“One of them? Happy dog!” 

“Being Du Vallon, De Bracieux ” 


n8 The Musketeer’s Warrant. 

‘Tierrefonds^ I remember. Blessed Edens !” 

“But in them is ’’ 

“Not the serpent ?’" 

“No, no, the Eva 

“Your wife ’’ 

“My wife,” continued M. du Vallon, lowering his voice, 
as if by telepathy it could be heard in France, “was widow 
of one M. Coquenard, a pettifogger of the lowest degree. 
This proctor found that playing jackal to briefless bar- 
risters was most unremunerative. He established !him- 
self as one of those legal advisers on the borderland of 
the Palace of Justice, who, with the pretense to save 
clients from the collective fraternity, pluck them entirely 
for their own mattresses. He appeared as Hope, in a 
black gown, to those desj>erates, with embarrassed estates, 
who wanted immediate silver at the cost of impoverishing 
their future generations to the seventh. Coquenard and 
the second mortgage were inseparable. 

“You do not see in me an authority on money matters, 
but it seems to me that these lenders on such security are 
in the position of a man who holds a bull by the horns, 
one who holds the same by the girth, and one by the tail. 
The first may be tossed before he gets his steak; the 
second) rolled upon, and the third flung over the pasture 
hedge. This picture M. Coquenard showed to the pledger, 
who in most instances sold out his feeble chance, and 
Coquenard obtained possession of the property. At the 
settlement, the settling always set tcxward his strong box. 
Thus he retired rich. It was his wealth with which 
Madame Coquenard gratified her second mate when he 
retired from the Musketeers.” 

“In short, her wealth outbid her charms and disposi- 
tion ” 

“Well, her disposition — of the property — entirely upon 
me — that was faultless. I have not had her horoscope 
cast, but I expected in a few years ” 

“Naturally, but you forget that there really is a phoenix 

yt 

“That fable ! do you tell me that there is a phoenix?” 

“Undoubtedly there is a phoenix. Its name in our 
tongue is Expectations — from a rich lady in her own 


The Musketeer’s Warrant. 119 

riglit. It still lives a hundred years before it mounts its 
own pile to revive for another ’’ 

“Hundred years ?” 

“Or another expectant !’^ 

“Dear friend, I feel that I shall never inherit the pile !” 

“That is why you came out here to throw away your 
life, or find peace of min-d !” 

“Heigiho!” 

“Your happiness !” 

“Woe is me!” 

“Your noble heart, in a scuffle for a prize which will 
fall to one alone, while the contestants and their ad- 
herents will be forgotten ” 

“Are the Spanish and Portuguese forgetful ” 

“Monstrously, to foreigners!” 

“Then, what are you doing here, you who have always 
been blighted by forgetfulness?” 

“My friend,” returned the Gascon, with his fine smile, 
“I have already fulfilled my ambition — I have my inn!” 

“Bah! how are you master when you dare not enter 
it and pour out one poor glass for a friend ?” 

“Oh, I am in no hurry — I wish the ladies to be at 
their ease. That is the time when a wise innkeeper pre- 
sents his bilL But let that pass — to your tale !” 

“Now, however rich a wife is, the province where we 
reside is primitive. They care nothing for louis, though 
they do for lords. They are all gentlemen or yeomen 
with pedigrees as long as a tilting lance, and family 
trees like that Indian one under which the Great Khan 
stables a regiment of horse. Even stretching a point, 
my wife cannot do more than claim the nobility of the 
Black Robe. The consequence is that we have nobody 
to visit us and nobody to visit. So I maunder in my 
groves, for Mouston is no company, now he is growing 
fat ” 

“Your old valet — a stuffed dried eel, fat ?” 

“He is swelled with good living and importance. But 
I wander in solitary glumness like — the — the ” 

“The phoenix again !” 

“Bum your phoenix! Like the fellow who retired 
from the world in a wasihtub ” 


120 The Musketeer’s Warrant. 

“But even Diogenes ihad ithe king oome into his 
shadow ” 

“Oh, a visitor did come — ^not the king, but from his 
minister ” 

“That would tickle your dame! From Riohelieu?’’ 

“The duke sent me young De Varech, whom you, who 
never forgets a soldier of yours, must recall as a Gray 
Musketeer?” 

“De Varech, a young Breton?” 

“With enormous knees I” 

“Like knots in a hawser? Certainly, I recall him,” 
laughing. “I made him a fugleman, that he might let 
the others close up. It spoilt the formation to have it 
looking where he rode as if there were a missing cava- 
lier to either side. I suppose he would not be so 
young ” 

“He is unaltered about the kneeis, but he wears full- 
bottomed trunks, so that the folds fall over. He is wiser, 
too. He left the service to enter the civil one. He 
courts the cardinal, not the king or queen, as he would 
court the little prince, hut he is too much of a baby, still. 
He is a secretary, in token of which he- brought me a 
letter in his own hand, but signed by his master.” 

“Another stab at your besotted neighbors. The 
prince of the church and premier of the realm- writes to 
you!” 

“Oh, my lady would tell them, if she had their ear.” 

“Well,” said the other, emphatically, “ithey may not 
care to know all about the Lord of the Vallon, but wait 
till they hear he is a grandee of Portugal !” 

“Has it come to that?” 

“If not now, it shall be; those ladies are bringing me 
the p'rospeot nearer.” 

“Do you mean that that Duchess of Braganza ” 

As he pointed, D’Artagnan smiled in that engaging 
manner which would be a fortune to a trader. 

“I believe she comes to insure my power to dispose of a 
peerage or two !” 

Porthos looked at his brother in the musketeers, whose 
promises might 'be far-fetched, but he generally brought 
them to hand. 


The Musketeer/s Warrant. 12 1 

“My letter ran: ‘My dear chevalier and companion- 
in-arms ’ 

“The duke wrote tliat ” 

“Varech wrote it, butt lihe duke fathered it/’ 

“Then we have here a great man wiho does not forget 
that we served with him — if we did not directly serve 
him — at the -siege of La Rochelle. Great men’s memo- 
ries are improving since my father’s time, for he shed his 
blood under King Henry IV., and is but a simple country 
gentleman, with our domain of Artagnan in the hands 
of the Coquenards.” 

“ ‘As you must know the whereabouts of your friend, 
the Ghevalier d’Artagnan, who has left the king’s service 
since the Peace of Cazal, I pray you to forward the in- 
closed to him.’ ” 

D’Artagnan frowned, puzzled. Why this roundabout 
method when his principal knew how to reach him di- 
rectly, as far as the Petrel was a fixture? 

“But you did not know where I was !” said he. 

“Not I, hut Varech did. It was he who said, in a 
friendly way, ‘If I were you, knowing how the cardinal 
values straightforwardness, I would go straight to our 
friend.’ ” 

“Ha !” 

“So I told my dame that I was ordered abroad on the 
king’s service.” 

D’Artagnan burst out a-Iaughing, to hide a tender 
feeling. Richelieu wanted to send him reinforcement, 
and believed ithat the valiant Porthos would he as wel- 
come to him as a hundred men. 

“Well, the inclosed?” asked he, sharply, to disguise 
that emotion. 

“Plague on the tailors ! They never give me room in 
my clothing,” growled the other, rummaging his raiment, 
pockets and lining. “I stifle.” 

“But, my dear chevalier, your clothes have been 
soaked.” 

“But they warranted the Ypres cloth well shrunk.” 

“The fact is, Biscay water makes everything shrink — 
a ship is reduced to a faggot of broken wood in no time.” 

“Oh, I forgot — Madame du Vallon with her own hand 
sewed it up in my vest! I have it! Alackaday!” be- 


122 The Musketeer’s Warrant. 

moaned <he, ruefully rul>bing- his nose with a kind of wad 
of paper ; “it has got a little — damp, I fear. It was an 
advice to you, of no consequence, believe me. His emi- 
nence merely hoped that you were in good health and 
ready to return to your post as soon as needs arose. 
Then came the usual flourisihes, for which Varedi was 
guilty, written with his tongue in his cheek — ^the great 
man’s fal-lals about his subordinate future— for even he 
may desire the humblesit retainer one day! My lord is 
forming a splendid library, Varech tells me, and in it is. 
I’ll be 'bound, the fable of the 'Lion and the Mou ’ ” 

“Balderdash! The inclosure for me ” 

“There! my ‘letter was sopped — I hope yours is not 
spoiled. What are you grimacing about ?” 

“Not spoiled! Why, look! Not a word on it of that 
fliff-fluff, which may be Varech’s but is not Richelieu’s.’’ 

“Upon this hand of mine,” interjected Porthos, 
aghast, “it is blank! It must be the salt water — it has 
driven off the ink !” 

At this, suggesting an idea, D’Artagnan more nar- 
rowly examined the paper; then wishing to dry it or at 
least to warm, he thrust it within his doublet, under the 
armpit. 

The other stared. 

Presently the captain withdrew his hand and began 
to laugh over the paper. 

“Ah ! I 'have it.” 

“What have you — a fit of lunacy ?” 

If one set of words had been effaced, another replaced 
it ; by the action of iodine and the warmth, letters stood 
out in blue ; faint but legible : 

D’A. — ^This, your warrant to any Soleiman to draw one and 
one-half million livres, or Spanish equivalent, being first install- 
ment. Fire the match! R. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

DARBY AND JOAN. 

‘‘A million and a half!’’ gasped Porthos, dazed. “Is 
there any such a sum in bullion ?” 

‘Tf anybody has it, it is the Jews. Would they be so 
harassed if they did not have it all? And from my 
knowledge of Portugal and Spain, where I have been 
delving, these Soleimans, by becoming converts — for it 
is not probing into consciences I was, so I do not guar- 
antee their sincerity — ^the members of that tribe possess 
the needful. Yes, they have my cash — ^that is, what I 
have the spenaing of ” 

“Then you are the treasurer !” and Porthos clapped his 
hands, making a sound like two waves slapping. “A 
million and ” 

“Many millions! but I was always sparing! I could 
not be lavish like our lofty-handed Athos! Only, I wish 
that up in that cave were my monetary agent instead even 
of those ladies ! And yet I do not want him there under 
the Duchess of Braganza’s piercing eyes. If she be- 
spelled my Soleiman, she is the Queen of Sheba who 
would make him disgorge !^’ 

“Saints forbid!’' groaned Du Vallon, sincerely. “Now, 
I would trust Madame du Vallon — she loosens the purse- 
strings so warily! but a princess! she would order the 
coronation robes and the jewels to bespangle them before 
the crown was assured.” 

“Oh, you think we shall take the kingdom, do you ?” 

“It is positive ! When we had only steel and no gold 
we used pretty fairly to manage matters. With both we 
can do anything !” 

The compliment made his brother musketeer smile. 

“I won’t flatter you, old comrade of my heart,” said he. 
“But do you know, I would as lief have you by my side 
as the bag of gold? Happy the captain who has a mas- 
ter mind over him to divine that two of us are better than 


124 Darby and Joan. 

one, and that to suggest you should send off a message 
to me would expedite you yourself on my track.” 

“Between you and the great duke nothing is secret ! I 
believe your cave up there is that from which the winds 
blew in oracles ! But what are you going to do ?” 

D’Artagn'an stamped like la duelist to feel that his step 
was sure. 

“The Freniah Minister’s envoy-in-dhief will at once go 
to parley with Braganza, who is, in my eye, among sev- 
eral pretenders, the one with the strongest bid for the 
Portuguese throne. He is the heir, look you, Porthos ! 
and the people want one of the old stock ! If he is with 
her, good ; if she be alone, also good ! I can come to an 
understanding with her first. Moreover, without her he 
is the compass card without the needle. Ho, you others, 
you shall shortly have the good cheer for yourselves and 
mates! Wait, Porthos, till you hear me whistle the air 
of ‘Should Henry Give to Me Paris,’ whereupon come 
as if that wind which we outlived were speeding you!” 

So, farewelling, be sitrode up the slope with an alert 
step, and proudly, too, although his clothes were discol- 
ored, shrunk and ludicrously awry, his cheek pale and a 
tremor from exhaustion ran all over his tired frame. As 
he advanced he sang jauntily the ballad of King Henry 
IV.’s time, which was to be the cue to his companion: 

“Should Henry give to me Paris, his great city, 

For me to quit my love forever, ’twere a pity 

If I did not reply: ‘Take back your town! Oh, sire. 

My love is more than towns — I love my darling higher!’ ” 

Spite of all, so distinguished was his bearing that, un- 
der this worst of aspects, the two ladies in front of the 
grotto mouth no sooner descried him than they waved 
their hands to cause the lackeys no longer to stand on the 
defensive. On the other hand, impressed like their mis- 
tresses by the martial carriage, they saluted him with 
their staves on his nearing them, as soldiers do a captain. 

“Alas, sir,” said the younger lady, sweetly, with instant 
sympathy, which she did not always so spontaneously 
express, “have you been castaway? What a dreadful 
storm! Do you come to ask relief?” 

“Clearly, I was coming for relief ; but,” humorously, “I 
was going to help myself !” 


125 


Darby and Joan. 

“Sir !’’ exclaimed the duchess, offended. 

“Considering that this Black Petrel is mine inn, if buy- 
ing and paying for it is any test, I see nothing preter- 
natural in that ! Aih, here is our ingenious cook, the de- 
lectable Quaqua! Tell us. Queen of Ethiopia, am I not 
the legitimate successor of your lord, master and host?'^ 

The negress, called to the inlet by curiosity, and re- 
tained by the well-known voice, grinned a broad welcome. 
Then, her chops falling, she clasped her hands and with 
real feeling, inquired: 

“Is Pedro lost^ 

“Lost ! a jewel like that get lost ! Out upon you ! He 
is simply blown out of his course ! He will return, like 
all good ships, to his old moorings in time — in good 
time! He was last seen headed for — for Brest!” He 
spoke loudly, with that fervent mock sincerity which 
marks the capital liar, who almost believes what he says. 
“A wide-mouthed harbor, Brest! But, Lord love you, 
mammoth of fidelity, albeit he is stout, thanks to your 
good, table, he will squeeze in, as he should, at St. Peter’s 
gate — more likely to be his path-end,” he concluded, un- 
heard by the others. 

Thus consoled, the black again grinned and mingled 
with the inner sihades. 

The two other hearers exchanged glances. They rea- 
soned that there was no immediate occasion for succor 
in this gentleman, who spoke so jestingly. 

The one who had been spokeswoman said: 

“There is an error here, sir ! Without impugning your 
statement of purchasing this house — shall we call it a 
house? — I beg to declare <that I aim its purchaser, if only 
for a time, since I bought the use of it of the then tenant 
for ten moidores, Portuguese.” 

“Of its tenant?” repeated the musketeer, whose turn 
it was to evince astonishment. “Eh? what! have the 
ghosts returned of Pedro Bitts, the fisher, and host of the 
first instance ?” 

“He answered to that name ! but he was a Jew, looking 
more like one who sold fish than went out to catch it.” 

“A Jew! Now, this is getting nearer the mark! Is 
he in there?” asked D’Artagnan. 

Both ladies bridled and drew away. 


126 


Darby and Joan. 

“No, no, of course you would not hire the house to 
entertain even that Jew ! Did he mention no other name 
— say, Soleiman ?” 

“I think,” returned Donna Jacinta, trying to give com- 
fort, “before he went out into the stormburst he called 
upon Father Soleiman !” 

“It is my man!” cried the Frenchman, only momen- 
tarily glad, however, as he looked around. “It was no 
weather to drive even a dog — of a Jew' — so very far!” 

Jacinta blushed. It was probably the first time that 
she had been rebuked by any man, and surely for what 
in her prejudice she esteemed insufficient cause — for a 
wastrel ! 

To the duchess’ surprise she replied not at all tartly but 
subduedly, if anything : 

“As I had purchased the houseroom and I did not de- 
sire to take in guests but of my own selection, he rode 
away on his mule, as I have heard.” 

“The dolt! We twain are then playing the parts of 
those figures in the Dutch toyhouses, the Darby who 
comes out when the wdnd blows and the Joan who comes 
out when the sun shines ! He will have been blown over 
the cliffs or drowned in a sudden torrent — that is what 
has become of him. Oh, indeed, we know not whom we 
turn from our doors! Why, I would as lief that waif 
were captured by the Spaniards! Yet, judging by my 
late experience, it is harder to pluck a man out of the 
jaws of a Biscayan nor’wester than from the Spanish!” 

He ground his teeth, thinking of the untowardness of 
it, that they should thrust out the bearer of the funds on 
which hung all they prayed to be benefited with. 

“You seem moved. Did you know this one?” asked 
Jacinta, still astonishing her mistress by a sympathy with 
this sitranger, quite unaccountable. 

D’Artagnan was verifying his expectation that his writ- 
ing on the doorpost was still attached. 

“Oh,” went on the young lady, following his glance, 
“have we the honor to address the Caballero de Gan- 
narta?” 

“Exactly!” said he, proudly. “At your service, Lady 
of Floriador, and of yours. Duchess of Braganza.” 

“Oh, do you know my lady?” 


Darby and Joan. 127 

‘‘Every gentleman knows the Gonzagos, memorable for 
their valor ! and the dames for their attractions and their 
queenlike majesty.” The last words were pronounced 
with studied emphasis. 

The princess started, and though meaning to nod 
slightly, found herself favoring with an elaborate cour- 
tesy. This was a man who had addressed queens. 

‘T do not see that I have any more business here,” re- 
sumed the cavalier, “since this tenant, who let his house, 
but should have stayed to receive me, has gone away. 
Still, though I want no room, will you allow me to send 
some food and stimulants to friends of mine, who are 
likewise cast upon this inhospitable shore ?” 

The ladies had been searching well, but they had per- 
ceived no one. 

“They are hardly better fitted for a court pageant than 
your servant speakimg,” went on the muksteer, amus- 
ingly. “The coats of their stomachs are also out of re- 
pair, so pranked upon were we by the typhoon — in a 
word, they are naked and starving. If you would let me 
send them by your lackeys the wherewithals to revive 
them and revest them, you will have their prayers to add 
to those of the thousands who hold your cause in their 
hearts !” 

There was no doubt that this glib speaker knew them 
very well. 

Jacinta stepped aside to let her mistress explain to the 
footmen. 

“Besides,” said he, still more significantly, “revived, 
they will form no worthless reinforcement to your guard, 
in case the fugitive Jew is caught by the Spaniards and 
they follow up his track — granting that he will not be- 
tray all — to his ignoble retreat !” 

La Braganza guessed that this confident and deeply- 
advised speaker wished to confer with her alone. An- 
other mi^t have been apprehensive, but Luisa de Gon- 
zago y Guzman y Braganza knew nothing of ordinary 
feminine fears. 

The musketeer plunged into the cave, whence he 
sihortly issued to beckon two of the servants. With the 
negress’ help, he had stuffed into two seaman’s bags 
enough victuals to supply the naval officer’s crew and M. 


128 Darby and Joan. 

Porthos also, with perhaps an overplus, if survivors had 
been found. 

Shouldering their burdens with an effort, but smiling 
with the hope of doing a kindness to others, who would 
share their loneliness and watch here, the varlets hastened 
down the declivity. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE PHANTOM BELE. 

‘^Now, clhevalier, wthat thave you to say to me?’^ in- 
quired the princess. 

‘T would I could say that all is well for Portugal and 
the hopes of those who love her; but since that Jew was 
dismissed, our fiduciary — alas ! I wish we could guess 
that we may turn away golden angels from our door !” 

“What are you saying, sir ?” 

“That, as far as my searches tell, poor Portugal can 
furnish nothing but men toward her becoming an inde- 
pendent state. For money she has to turn to other quar- 
ters/' 

“Yes ; and always in vain !" 

“Not always ! not vainly !" 

“Then God be praised !" 

Proud though she was, she began to weep ; those full, 
noiseless tears, seeing which, in Eve, Adam took her hand 
and went out with her into the world. Through them, 
she said : 

“You are French — then, your king " 

“My noble monarch," went on the Royal Musketeer, 
with lofty firmness, “through his first minister, sends his 
representative, not to be recognized yet — since the coun 
he is accredited to exists not — to meet a banker in Por- 
tugal, or thereabouts — who will supply him with the 
means — ^the fuel to keep up the fire of revolution " 

“Revolution?" 

“And not revolt, mark you! The first portion of the 
funds is a million-and-a-half livres, being so many pesetas 
of silver!" 

“A million !" gasped the duchess, as deeply shaken as a 
common person by a windfall in proportion. 

“And-a-half," added the Frenchman, emphatically; 
“don’t forget the half-million — it will buy over a citadel 
governor or two !" 

She looked upward with joy, while her attendant looked 


1)0 The Phantom Bell. 

at the war eagle, who was their dove of good tidings, 
with even more gratitude. 

The main hindrance was removed in their progress to 
the throne coveted. 

'‘We shall be delighted to receive this disburser of the 
boon,” observed the duchess, with quivering lip. 

“Unfortunately, the Caballero de Gannarta is nothing 
unless in close communion with the head of the Soleimans, 
upon whom he draws ” 

“But, meanwhile, I suppose we may know ” began 

the lady, who would rather have received the money than 
the disburser or the banker. 

“Your grace, in so delicate a negotiation, and for such 
vast assistance, secrecy must be used. A hint as to the 
existence of such an agent, and to his person, living in a 
country whioh he aims to sever from the crown, and — 
well, his life would be at stake — and his body, too. 
Egad ! they might invent a charge of heresy, and send his 
ashes, after burning, to my Lord Cardinal ; and even he 
would not strive to clear the wretch’s memory by de- 
claring that under guise of paganism he committed high 
treason! Now, this agent may jeer at even this fate, but 
if he were done to death, along with the banker, I do not 
see how the money would be used in your grace’s behalf.” 

“But it is agreed that Mother Church shall lose nothing 
by the redemption of Portugal !” 

“You? yes! but France! She is not party to any such 
agreement. A Frenchman, an officer in the king’s mili- 
tary — intimate service! trying to tear the finest jewel out 
of the Spanish crown ! and failing ! that is the point ! 
France would be forced to deny complicity. I should 
have to say, ‘Alone I did it ! and I would be sacrificed !’ ” 

“It is true! no, no!” said Donna Jacinta. 

“For the present, say — which is quite true — ^that you 
have not handled a sou of foreign loans !” 

“But the banker’s appointment still holds good with his 
gracious majesty’s agent?” 

“That agent, madam, has too well examined the ground 
here. Spain presents the sight of a decaying power — 
masterless servants, disbanded, unpaid soldiers, officers 
reduced, jackanapes promoted ; the only thrivers, the col- 
lectors-in-chief of the revenue. The rest of the com- 


The Phantom Bell. 131 

munity looks upon chance as the paymaster — ^that is, they 
rob any next comer ! The truce has shut up the warships 
in the docks to rot — their crews are idling or joining the 
armed beggars who impede the road. I vow to your 
highness that a bishop sets out from one town to another 
with a small army to clear the way ! They would stop a 
saint, and if he kept a carriage, like the present-day saints, 
they would not only hamstring his horses, but make a 
fire of the coach and eat the horses roasted by it ! 

“If that chief Soleiman had all his tribe around him, 
the news that he had a million or so of pieces in his sack 
would let loose the locusts, bitterer than Africa’s ! What 
will be left of a million-and-a-half if he has to be sifted 
through the beggars, ‘the gentlemen of the night,’ the 
governors, the Holy Inquisition, the corregidors, the al- 
caldes and their alguazils — not a milrei! Look you, I 
have been on the deep — a prey to the sharks; well, I 
would sooner leap in among them than ride from here 
to Bayonne with that sum at my saddle-bow !” 

“What have I done?” wailed Donna Jacinta, wringing 
her hands and looking so pitiful that D’Artagnan was 
sorry that he had spoken so truthfully. 

“What have you undone?” responded he, with sever- 
ity, only pretended this time. “As pretty a piece of work 
as 'has been schemed in our times. But I may overtake 
the bearer of the precious bag 1 Oh, I am forgetting an- 
other imporJ:ant matter ! The duke, your lord, where is 
the duke, my lady ?” 

Both the women looked dismayed again. 

“I suppose you are awaiting him here? A capital, 
out-of-the-way nook, is it not?” 

“No!” 

“Yes I” 

“Yes and no ! Between two contradictions, the truth- 
seeker falls to the ground. I have not been long here 
and in the sister kingdom, but it is a truism that I heard, 
to wit : the Duke and the Duchess of Braganza were in- 
separable 1” 

“If love had not counseled that union, sir,” returned 
the duchess, sternly, “self-preservation would have done 
so. Together, the hirelings would hardly have dared 
assassinate us; such a double tragedy would elicit too 


i?2 The Phantom Bell. 

much comment wherever there was court and sovereign 
through Christendom 

“Do they go as far as assassination?^' The speaker 
gripped his siword quickly, as if it had given a leap to 
leave the scabhard. 

“So it was with grief and dread that I consented to 
part with my lord. He received a royal invitation — 
mandate, you uniderstand — -to attend a ceremony — 
launching of a new kind of warship — ^^at San Andero. 
He said that if there were evil brewing, he could not flee 
— ^he was fettered, hound to Spain, wihile depending on 
news from over the mountains on which hung the fate 
of his lifelong project — ^to regain his ancestral throne." 

“Madame, I have not been deficient in diligence ; but I 
was timed to harmonize with others in my striking." 

“I blame no one ! My lord, I continue, said that, if the 
invitation concealed a deathtrap, he must not drag me 
into it. Besides, I was, in event of his not joining me at 
a week’s interval, to retire into Portugal. I was, in 
case he disappeared, to act as I deemed meet." 

“Revenge him?" 

“One of his forefathers is known as ‘the Avenger;’ 
acting for him, I might imitate that monarch !’’ 

“Suppose you did raise the South for that end, there 
would still be the severed kingdom on your hands. Who 
would be offered the vacant throne ?" 

“What other? Never mind! I would not bring on 
that dreadful war unless I were sure of success I" 

“Let me see ! Assist at a launching at San Andero — 
the Spanish fleet would be there to do the royal substi- 
tute honor — a, new type of warship?" muttered the 
French private envoy, thinking of the unseen ship at 
whioh the three Spanish vessels were firing. “Was my 
lord to preside — christen the vessel?" 

“The duke is generalissimo of the army of Portugal — 
derisive title! As such he was a royal delegate to the 
ceremony, but he was merely a guest. Above him in 
activity ranked Admiral Don Lopez Ozario, whom all the 
navy officers would obey. My lord promised me, for 
security’s sake, that he would stay aboard a certain fleet 
vessel, of which the commander and others were true 
to him, if anybody remains true at these times — such as 


The Phantom Bell. 133 

the Duke of Villa-real, Lord Mendoza, the brothers 
Mello, the brave De Saa — some remained, some he com- 
pelled to go into Portugal, since it was madness to have 
all sacrificed. Spate of lures, then, he would be on the 
Amor de Dots, a swift corvette. The captain was his 
protege, the subalterns, his pensioners. Moreover, 
thinking of everything, the crews were paid to obey their 
captain in the teeth of his superiors, or die under the fire 
of all the fleet concentrated.” 

“Well arranged,” said the Frenchman, studiously. 
“But the trainer is still rash who thrusts his head into the 
lion’s mouth !” 

“The wolf’s, sir! That feeble Philip a lion?” scoffed 
the duchess. “He is not another Second Philip I” 

“He is Philip fourth-rate 1” added Donna Jacinta, as 
sneeringly. 

Darkness had come on, while Richelieu’s envoy was 
cogitating over the duke’s separation from his wife, 
which boded no good to the great undertaking. Every- 
thing seemed so cruelly contrary in this affair. 

The servants had returned from their errand, not hav- 
ing hurried, divining that their mistress wished her dis- 
course with the strange gentleman not overheard. They 
reported, -when questioned by Donna Jacinta, that the 
sailors, leaving the French gentleman to accompany them 
to the inn, had hastened along the beach, as they bad 
come, to succor their companions. They were sure to 
meet them 'before complete nightfall. Besides, the un- 
dercliff caught and held the sunset light and would 
longer remain undarkened. 

&hind ,them, leisurely, M. du Vallon strode up the 
slope. 

Alas I who could have recognized the magnificent 
Porthos, glory of the Three Companies of King’s Mus- 
keteers, 'black, red and gray? Absent the gloss — ^trujy, 
iit a pickle ! The brine had taken all the curl out of his 
hat plumes ; all the twirl out of his mustaches, of which 
the pMDints drooped instead of bristling upward, as Phil- 
ip’s in the Velasquez portraits; he trembled with slow 
fire at not having been able to repair his toilet before 
introduction to the eminent lady. 

“Madame,” said his comrade, when the giant life- 


The Phantom Bell. 


134 

guardsman was ait hand, “I have /the favor to present to 
you, and to the Lady of Floriador, the Chevalier-Lord of 
the Vallon, of Bracieux and of Pierrefonds, the special 
messenger of the King Louis XIII., and of his first min- 
ister, who hegs to proffer his respects and his sword to 
your grace. The sea, in its impartial severity, has taken 
the color out of his vest, but not out of his blood, ‘the 
bluest^ in France, or his temper and spirit, the highest, 
or his blade, the best there !” 

Porthos made a becoming, stately bow and held out 
the handle of his sword in its sheath toward the Duchess 
of Braganza. She tendered her hand to be kissed, and 
she was not without feeling a thrill as it rested for a 
m'Oment on the huge back-hand of Porthos, while his 
mustache brushed it. Madame du Val'lon would have 
been jealous if she had seen the proud Gonzago’s pleas- 
ure at the ponderous knight’s offering. 

D’Artagnan, rapping his own rapier hilt, turned to- 
ward her attendant, implying that he personally dedi- 
cated it to her service. She bit her lip, but a smile of 
pleasure illumined her averted face. 

“I do not believe she is a doit offended,” thought the 
Gascon. 

It was by this time darkness complete. There was no 
twilight in this latitude. 

The Frenchman sighed. 

“A plaguey, breakneck journey lies before me,” grum- 
bled he, meaning to be heard. “To chase a Jewi^ 
Frier Rush, without his lantern lit, over a seacliff sham 
of a road, in a pitch-black night. If he but had the 
treasure in ingots, I might trust to catch up with him.” 

“M. du Vallon will be our guard,” said the duchess, 
evidently haughtily unconcerned about one personas 
safety more or less, and surely not intending to detain 
the adventurer from a service of such possible gain to 
her coffers. 

Over a million for their military chest, at the price of 
a stranger’s barking his shins. 

“Hark!” interposed her maM-oLhonor, looking off 
seaward. “What did I hear?” 

“A bell !” said the duchess, negligently. 

“It’s a bell,” coincided Porthos, with his back that 


The Phantom Bell. 135 

way, for lie was sniffing tlie odor of Quaqua^s fleslipots, 
despite his recent repast. 

“Vespers,’’ said Jacinta. 

“Vespers, without a church — a ibell without a 'belfry ?” 
said D’Antagnan, who took nothing for granted. “Where 
is there a bell about here? There is no large ship, car- 
rying a priest ! These fishing craft use horns, like hunts- 
men, or wooden clappers, like the Moorish priests. 
There is no ” 

“But it is a bell, and dolefully tolling, too,” persisted 
the duchess, shivering as the breeze came off the sea. 

“Get the ladies indoors, please, you, master,” said the 
oldest footman. “It is a bad sign when a bell rings off 
on the ocean without being struck by human hands !” and 
he crossed himself. 

“Idiot ! there is no bell !” 

“Then a phantom bell is still worse omen I” 

“I know the cove better than my inn itself !” 

Nevertheless, the metallic stroke sounded again, aiid 
yet again, regular enough to suggest human impetus or 
human set mechanism. 

“That,” said Porthos, to obtain recognition of his 
science from the ladies, “that is a bell buoy. I have 
heard of them !” 

“A bell mule !” returned his friend, tartly. “I reiterate 
to you that there is no bell for leagues around.” 

“Stay,” said Jacinta, with unusual desire to prevent a 
difference, “why may not some portions of a wreck be 
wafted ashore to which a bell was attached, and some 
poor wretch, much as was the case with your lordship, be 
appealing for help by striking those mournful notes ?” 

“There is something in that,” quickly said the duchess. 

“There’s much in that!” agreed Porthos, wishing the 
suggestion had entered his mind. 

There could not be a doubt now that the sound was 
continuous and from one fixed spot. 

“It is where a rock juts out of the water. The Tur- 
ban, or Moor’s head,” said D’Artagnan, yielding. “It is 
not a man, I guess. Just a spar caught at one end and 
swinging about at random so as to beat that devil’s tattoo 
on a cresset, stuck by a pole in the rocky pile*” 


i}6 The Phantom Bell. 

‘Would you go and make sure?’’ said the duchess, 
wrought up by the fears about her husband. 

“As for me,” said Jacinta, addressing no one in par- 
ticular, but the musketeer took it all to himself, “I could 
not rest this night if I thought that a poor seaman were 
there, clinging to a sea-washed rock, or a mast, much as 
the Sire de Gannarta was, beating with dying hand that 
lantern tipped post — all through the livelong night !” 

“I am going.” Then, as the thought of Pedro and his 
shipmates obtruded on his political speculations, he ex- 
claimed with vigor, “I go !” 

He saw Pedro, so wise, brave, profound, indefatigable, 
noble spirit, in a vulgar shape, battling as he had done 
with old ocean. 

He had forgotten the Jew, perhaps in equal peril ! 

Bracing up his belt tightly and snatching the kerchief 
off the negress’ head as she stood, staring; he bound it 
round his own brow Hke a bull fighter’s scarf cap. He 
dashed down the declivity, shouting to his companion : 

“Watch and ward over the ladies !” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE DUKE OF BRAGANZA. 

All the locality came back to the Gascon, so that he ran 
in the obscurity as in broad day. He reached the fishing 
hamlet without a stumble. With his fist he struck at tihe 
first door and said, briefly, to the woman outcoming: 

“A wrecked man may be on the Moor’s Head !” 

She was one of those sturdy creatures, fearless of no 
weather, and as able to help man a boat as a man himself. 

“Help me get out something that will float and throw 
in an oar or a pair ” 

“Shall I get another hand, sir? The cable is heavy 
for one to scull and for a pair to pull !” 

“No, we two — to save time!” 

The woman drew an oar out of the cabin, being a pre- 
cious tool not to be idly lost, spoke sternly to her little 
ones who had begun to whimper, but who hushed like 
wolf cubs when the hunter is nigh, and rapidly preceded 
her caller. She was more familiar with the shore than 
he. Besides, she alone knew where the spare boat was 
hidden. 

Warmth had succeeded a cold spell and fog arose. 
This lifted a little off the surface, and it had a phospho- 
rescent scum. The woman soon found the boat, raked 
off a screen of eel grass and' helped the Frenchman in. 

She waded out as if she had sea boots on, pushed the 
boat till it was fairly in the water, and leaped in at the 
stern, where she stood up, easily poised, ready to use the 
single oar “Portugal fashion,” that is to say, in sculling. 

“Where to, master ?” said she, unconcernedly as a fer- 
ryman making a regular trip. 

“To the cresset rock, I said. Somebody may be 
there !” 

“The Lord forbid! but there do be some’at making a 
click-clack !” 

She lustily plied the bar, holding its edge against the 


i?8 The Duke of Braganza. 

boatside while executing the half revolving motion and 
return which is a marvel of propulsion. 

In twenty minutes they were alongside the rock. It 
was worn from its original rounded shape to a narrow 
but flat-topped cone ; but though from shore looking in- 
accessible, its platform was sufficient to hold two or 
three men standing, while it amply accommodated a man 
coiled up at the base of the wooden and iron upright, sus- 
taining the beacon fire. This man was so huddled up 
that he might have been flung from a height and broken 
in every bone. His left arm was, however, sound enough 
to be twined round the mast, as if he had attempted to 
clamber up out of reach of the cruel tide and its ruin- 
lac^en waves. With his right, armed with the rest of a 
broken sword, he must have struck more by habit than 
by knowledge of his act, on the ironwork. It was its 
vibration, which resembled the knelling over the dead. 

“It is a man muttered D’Artagnan, heart-pricked at 
his obstinacy and disbelief. “All but a dead one. That 
was his last beat ! It is not our Pedro 

“None of our sort,’’ mumbled the woman, with eyes 
out of which the last tear for the drowned had long since 
flowed. 

He was sumptuously clad ! Fine linen, a gold chain — 
a gentleman. 

He seized the armed hand, which relaxed at the touch, 
utterly spent, and let him extricate the blade as if cogni- 
zant that friends had arrived. He ran his fingers over 
the handle. 

“Fine metal — ^and finely chiseled — a crown on it ! This 
is no common ship’s officer ! What gilded ball have the 
sea dogs been playing pellmell with !” 

Tenderly he lowered the body into the skiff and re- 
turned carefully himself, as if fearful of oversetting it 
with a precious cargo. 

“Turn, and land us ! Every moment is valuable !’^ 

Remembering his similar strait and how he had been 
cared for, he pressed the unconscious figure to his bosom, 
trying to electrify it if not much to warm, since he was 
chilled; thaw him, share with the deadlike his own 
vitality. 


The Duke of Braganza. 139 

The woman skillfully ran the boat on the sands, per- 
fectly piercing the gloom. 

“Let the 'boat go hang V* cried the musketeer, ungrate- 
fully. “Out ! Take his heels, while I his head ! So, 

I so ! Steady, for we must carry him up to the Petrel for 
I fire and soup 

The fishwoman was stronger .than he at the time. 
They quickly ascended. Half-way up, D’Artagnan, with 
overbearing impatience, and counter to prudence, 
shouted: 

“Lights, lights ! Blow up the fire ! Get out wine and 
heat the soup ! I bring a drowned man !” 

Humanity levels classes. In the case of the duchess, 
on sharp points as regarded her husband, she felt at- 
tracted to this unknown castaway. She and the other 
lady bustled like Quaqua and the fisherwoman in mak- 
ing the preparations which converted the cave into a 
hospital. 

The lackeys had sprung to relieve the captain and the 
woman, so that the insensible man was promptly brought 
within cover. 

Already a kind of bed was spread by the corner warmed 
best by the roaring fire. The fisherwoman returned to 
her children. 

Hardly had the burden been laid on the couch, and 
D’Artagnan begun to comb back the hair, worn long, 
plastered over the face by slime from weeds, clotted blood 
and hardened salt, than he uttered a deep cry, as from his 
heart, making Porthos quake : 

“Don Juan ! the hero of the trenches of Susa Pass !” 

At the name of Juan, although common enough, the 
duchess and her tiring-woman bent forward, and from 
their quivering lips arose simultaneously this ejaculation : 

“The Duke of Braganza !” — “My husband !” 

The duchess fell upon the body, bedewed its pale, cold 
features with tears, and repeated the name between sobs. 
One could not define whether it was in pain or gratitude. 

“Juan ! oh, my own Juan ! my beloved Juan !” 

“I am ashamed to be here,” muttered Porthos, cough- 

“ ’Sdeath !” said his friend, in a hushed voice, “this is 
the finest fish ever caught in Las Salinas Cove !” 


140 The Duke of Braganza. 

After the first paroxysm of love and thankfulness, the 
Lady of Braganza allowed the negress, acquainted with 
the means of resuscitating shipwrecked mariners, to take 
the patient in hand. Then she and Jacinta continued the 
proper cares under her direction. 

D’Artagnan touched his comrade on the arm, and the 
two crept out. 

At the doorway the servants were on their knees, pray- 
ing. 

“Good varlets! they love their master!” remarked the 
musketeer. “This is a good sign for the future kingdom ! 
The love of the subjects is the king’s best safeguard 1” 
“King, eh?” 

“Presently ! Since I am going to make that man one 1” 
“You speak warmly 1” 

“I am hot in his cause.” 

“Well, Braganza is .a duke, and a sort of viceroy al- 
ready.” 

“He is much more ! He is a hero !” 

“So you know him ? You hailed him pretty well on the 
level as plain Don Juan I” 

“I knew him as such only. Wait, wait 1 Did you ever 
see a ship launched ?” 

“Not often ; and I want to see it less than ever, if, as in 
the case of this duke, one comes to his fate 1” 

“The ship will stick to the stocks ” 

“Unless they grease the ways ” 

“Porthos, your library at your three estates must be 
well garnished, and, what is more, well thumbed I You 
know all things. Yes, the ways should be well greased. 
Well, in case of our launch, that ship of state, whose 
figurehead is the king, the proper ointment is a golden 
one. While they are telling that traveler, who has re- 
turned over the Styx by way of little Salinas, how he was 
served with the same sauce as the Knight of Artagnan 

and scores of finer fellows, let us, being reposed ” 

“I 'like the repose! You reposed, after venturing out 
again to sea on the heels of your own narrow squeak !” 

“Let us,” went on the musketeer, not noticing the cor- 
rection, “go upon the road to San Sebastian. I much 

mistake, or we shall discover that Jew ” 

“Would he not have hastened away ” 


The Duke of Braganza. 141 

“His mule would have a word or two to say on that 
course !” 

“His mule? I cry you, mercy! do you understand 
mule-ology now ?” 

“I know that the mule struck up a friendship for my 
gallant charger, and when a mule gets a fond fit on for a 
a horse, it is Castor and Pollux over again ’’ 

“I know I so the mule will cast him, and hurry back 
to your horse 

“It is likely. Anyway, if we should come up with him, 

I wager my Constable’s Sword in prospect against our 
Quaqua’s skewer that the Jew will be so disgusted with 
his hours in the open that he will rush into our 
arms ” 

“He may rush into- yours, if you like — as for me, I 
decline to embrace Jews, though I should his money- 
bag!” 

“Come along.” 

“In that storm, he and the mule would have been sent 
over the cliffs ” 

“It blew inland! And never was the wind made in 
bolus’ cave which would blow the man far, weighted 
down with a million of livres!” 

But while they were saddling Clamponnier, Porthos, 
regretting that the darkness prevented his admiring all 
his striking points, for they intended to ride and walk by 
turns, the latter, whose campaigning instincts were 
sharply returning, laid his hand silently on his compan- 
ion’s arm and pointed over the tableland. 

There a light erratically showed, gleaming, vanishing, 
appearing to one hand, darting to the other, bowing, ris- 
ing, stopping, receding, flashing forward; but, on the 
whole, nearing them. 

“A dark lantern,” commented D’Artagnan, “carried by 
a tired or drunken man. At least, it is open only on the ( 
side toward us.” 

“It is a surprise, intended ! We shall simply be over- 
borne by a detachment out of the nearest garrisoned 
town.” Porthos spoke disappointedly but still calmly. 
“Well, with those varlets, the fisherwomen, who can load 
muskets, I reckon so! And calling in those wrecked 
Frenchmen, the narrow entrance to your inn being de- 


142 The Duke of Braganza. 

fensiWe, I tihink we can hold that pass as long as those 
Romans did the 'bridge at Thermopylae Pass \” 

“Good!” said the captain, not losing time in pedantic 
correction. “But let us reconnoitre, so as not uselessly 
to alarm the ladies I” 

“Oh, as for the duchess, she is a lioness again since 
she has found her mate ; and as for Donna Jacinta, she is 
not easily frightened, I will swear!” 

Leaving the horse, which showed no eagerness to go in 
search of the mule, or anywhere else, they rapidly went 
up to the highland top. They had not made twenty rods 
before the light gave a plunge and was projected upon 
them. 

“Who goes there?” challenged a harsh voice. 

There was a clatter of weapons, too. 


CHAPTER XX. 

KING PORTUGAL. 

^‘How now ! Wlhy, this is our lieutenant of the 
Messier r exclaimed Porthos, s'heathing his sword with a 
bang of the hilt. “Ha, ha ! he has stuffed a bunch of 
grass into a wicker basket, flung it on a pole and at- 
tached that pole to a mule. That accounts for the wab- 
bling! Sailors are droll!” 

“Who goes there?” was repeated in an irritated tone, 
as if the laughter, no doubt heard, had been taken in no 
merry mood. 

There was a rattle of clubs and of steel, but as the 
guarded ligiht sent its ray only one way, little could be 
distinguished in the deep dark behind the animal thus 
converted into an ambulatory lighthouse. 

“France! friend!” shouted D’Artagnan, not desirous 
of drawing a shot. “Do you not know your best and 
only friend in these waters. Lieutenant Constant ?” 

“The French gentlemen !” was the joyous response. 

“But what are they carrying on the mule’s back?” de- 
manded M. du Vallon. “The money sacks with the mill- 
ions, by all that’s bright !” 

“No, no; it is a man in a bad way — flaccid as a jelly- 
fish. Now, if luck holds good ” 

“This thing,” replied the lieutenant, coming up with a 
sailor leading the animal, and pointing to the burden 
across the back, “this is a peddler or cagot; a Jew or the 
like. W-e picked him up on the wayside when we 
mounted to the cliff top. The tide is rising all along- 
shore as if it would never know a turn ! We were fairly 
driven up aloft as those fellows met us. This mule was 
grazing contentedly hard by the man — so it may be his.” 

“Did it have no panniers ?” asked D’Artagnan, eagerly. 

“None, and no saddlebags. The siaddle is a wretched 
cloth, doubled to hide its holes and dirt!” 

“ITiat mule has kicked them off!” said Porthos, in 
horror. “I should thrash a mule like that !” 


144 King of Portugal. 

“I do not think so/^ said this friend. ‘‘I believe that 
this terrified knave will turn out to be his own money- 
bag " 

“I have heard of a spy swallowing a message — ^but a 
million ’’ 

“Not exactly that way — ^but, in any case, we shall 
make him disgorge. And don’t be hard upon one who 
may be of much service. He may be bom a Jew, but 
there are no Jews left in this land lately who are not 
converts. Recognize the best part of him, if he be half 
a Christian.” 

“You are right, my gentleman,” interposed a seaman, 
pulling his front hair; “this is no heathen! See here, 
sir, is his prayer book!” holding up a wallet of dark 
morocco, blackened with thumbing and closed with metal 
clasps. “That is what the priests call a missal !” 

“Draw up your light-bearer,” said D’Artagnan, 
quickly, as he took this pocketbook from the finder, and, 
opening it, he added : 

“You are right, my lad! It is a kind of missal over 
which too many men spend more time than over their 
breviary! It is an account book which the Prince of 
Evil will go over with the owner some day !” 

Several folded papers fell out, written on China paper, 
fine and thin, and yet opaque, with that imperishable ink 
which, to this day, retains its gloss and intense hue. 
They were picked up with that awe of the illiterate for 
writing and handed him. 

“Ha!” continued he, attracted enough by the glancing 
over them to hold them' carefully. “Go on with him as 
you were heading !” 

“It is the mule who is the pilot,” said the lieutenant; 
“he was heading for the point where we sighted you two, 
like he had laid down the course with line and chalk !” 

“I believe,” said M. du Vallon, walking beside the 
man on the animal, “he is coming to !” 

“I shall return him his papers when he is in his right 
wits,” observed the Musketeer Royal, enigmatically. 

As they arrived at the cave, Soleiman, for it was he, 
became alive to his state an-d his wants. He ran his 
^hands over_ his person, but not so much to learn if its 


King of Portugal. 145 

jointts were in order as to make sure ke ‘had lost noth- 
ing. 

“Ugh !” said he, lamentably, “have these tarry fingers 
in overrunning me stuck to my family papers — of no 
earthly use to any one, hut still dear to me — or were 
there pillagers ’’ 

“Hold, Master Elizor/’ 'broke in D’Artagnan. “No 
Jeremiads, please 1 You are running the risk of having 
your mouth rinsed of foulness out there in the bay. 
These sailors are as honest as humane. I it was who 
took care of your pocketbook, as well as they of your 
person. Sirrah, let me hear nothing,” he subjoined, in 
a voice for his ear solely, “of your keeping your bullion 
so tied up that you want time to meet all rightful de- 
mands instanter! I know your pecuniary position bet- 
ter ithan the ‘high qualificator of the holy Inquisition — ^ay, 
like that forefinger of yours, whidh has kept tick on its 
accumulations so closely that it is worn to the quick.” 

Startled by this stern address, Elizor let himself be 
taken off the mule, which ran over to Clamponnier gladly, 
but was met with dignified snorts and restless kicking®. 
He was hardly able to stand. It might be as much fright 
as stiffness from his wanderings. 

“Keep your eye on him, Porthos,” said D’Artagnan, as 
they stepped within the cave with the Jew between them. 

Thanks to an energetic brain and a strong constitu- 
tion, Braganza, who had 'well resisted the luxury of a 
court endeavoring to make a Roi faineant of him, had 
likewise resisted the attacks of 'the storm. Much is 
achieved in the human frame by the tenacity of purpose 
in one who cherishes an exalted design. 

He was now in clear possession of his senses. 

Though pale, wasted, shaken to the core, he presented 
a not unlordly aspect. Yet he was seated on a cask, robed 
in a horsecloth, and supported by his wife and her lady- 
in-waiting. Juan de Braganza was heavy-looking, s-tolid, 
dull, without a great spur, but his profuse color was 
gradually returning, and thinness 'had robbed his linea- 
ments of too nonchalant an expression. 

“The Duke of Braganza,” muttered the Jew, shrinking, 
as if he dreaded any actual contact with this rival of 


146 King of Portugal. 

Philip IV. — ^it being no secret to 'him as a financier on ^ 
)w’hat terms they really stood. ;t 

There was surprise, too, as if he 'had knowledge, not j 
of this particular plot of assassination, but of something | 
of the kind in contemplation. I 

The duke turned his head, but seemed to distinguish j 
D’ Artagnan alone. With deep gladness, too. ^ 

‘‘Why, save us ! it is my captain in the Savoyard cam- 
paign ! The Chevalier D’Art ” ; 

“Gannarta,” corrected the Frenchman, grasping the 
hand offered and broadening his face with a smile like 
Braganza’s. 

They were soldier and soldier. 

“He is not arrogant,” remarked he to Porthos, who 
was in a daze. Then, releasing the ducal hand, he said 
to the wondering duchess : 

“Madame, you know your illustrious husband so well 
that it is impossible that I should present him in a new 
and more brilliant light ; but I must take this opportunity 
to excuse myself for having addressed his grace so curtly 

and offhand. I only knew your lord as a Spanish ” ] 

“Portuguese ” i 

“Portuguese officer of fortune, who volunteered into 
my squadron of the King’s Black Musketeers in the 
campaign against the Duke of Savoy, in ’34. So came 
many a foreigner into our camp to learn our art of war, 
s'ome of them concealing a high rank under their beavers, 
it appears. 

“One day, in the van-foss, w)hen we were countermin- 
ing, we broke into a tunnel where the Savoyards had 
stored a very pretty fat ‘sausage’ stuffed with powder 
and seasoned with Greek fire ! They had fled on hearing 
our picks, but not before clapping the line stock to the 
slow match. Faith ! it was a quick enough match for us, 
had not my Don Juan here — ^your Don Juan — sprung 
forth from our midst, when, to tell the truth, we re- 
coiled, myself first in the drawing back ( we are not al- 
ways in our bravest moment). Don Juan threw himself 
upon the fizzing serpent and the sausage! Methought, 
as the smoke enveloped him, that we were all converted 
into sausage meat, but, I warrant, he was no more glad 
than we when he arose. With his body he had ex;- 


King of Portugal. 147 

tinguis'hed the dire flame. Ah, his highness may mod- 
estly keep that deed a secret, but your highness could 
tell of a sear, over his heart, betokening the flame he 
smothered ! 

“Our marshal thanked him in the king’s name, and 
his name was read out in the orders of the day — ^but 
who, in Don Juan the volunteer, suspected the Duke of 
Braganza? One who bore himself like a Maccabee in 
Josephus !” 

“Tally-'ho !” shouted Poiihos, waving his hat as if his 
hounds were capturing the beast. 

“My hero!” said the duchess, embracing her husband 
with as little perception of the bystanders. Never had 
she so high and ennobling an opinion of him. 

Over her shoulder the duke gave the French captain 
a glance for altogether another reason than his recent 
rescue. 

“My lord, for saving my men I have far too long owed 
you a debt. I trust that before so long I shall repay it.” 

“You have done so, in saving my life! Think, wife, 
that the invitation to the launch was, indeed, a decoy! 
No sooner was my corvette between the broadsides of 
two men-oDwar than, under pretense of firing salutes — 
with shotted guns — ^an accident! the poor Amor de 
Dios was all but sent to the bottom. My captain was 
alone unnerved by the murderous surprise. He gave 
orders, and his men, restored to courage and coolness 
by his self-control, managed to manoeuvre us out of the 
trap. 

“For such a plot it was necessary that not one aboard 
should survive to tell the tale. We were closely pur- 
sued, but it was not until we were out well at sea that 
the three or four vessels in chase and trying to inter- 
cept us in other ways, opened fire on us, as on a pro- 
nounced enemy of Spain. The chief pursuer was fleeter 
than my ship, a long, narrow craft unfit for rough 
waters. When we replied with our guns, for this was 
war, war to the death! the shock almost completed our 
destruction; we were shattered to the keel. Unable to 
get clear, unable to keep seaward, we were unfortu- 
nately driven back toward two large galleys which re- 
sumed the cannonade. A storm came up while I 


148 of Portugal. 

thought of closing with the nearest tormentor, and we 
were forced toward 'the most dangerous shore on this 
coast of dangers. In the mists and in the smoke of 
our own guns replying to the last, we went to pieces 
on rocks far out from the land, this side of San Sebas- 
tian. I was forced into a boat by my devoted officers 
and friends, but all was of little avail. I found myself 
mingled with them on fragments of our ship — dead, dis- 
abled — a last fury of the storm overwhelmed us and I 
remembered no more. Yes, it seemed to me that a 
church bell was ringing for my funeral — what hopes are 
being buried with me, I deplored — well, this brave sol- 
dier saved me! I am his debtor forever!” 

Once again he clasped D’Artagnan’s hand as if never 
to let him go from his side. 

“We saw your gallant fight,” observed the lieuten- 
ant of ’tihe Messier, “and will testify to the outrage! 
The same fate attended our ship, at which the Spanish 
fired, I suppose, to destroy us as witness.” 

“A French ship? This is a doubling of the violence!” 

“We were conveying this gentleman to Spain, and 
this part, too,” went on the naval officer, who did not 
intend that he should be ignored by the duke. 

The latter bowed to M. du Vallon, inquiringly. 

“The Chevalier du Vallon,” said D’Artagnan, “was 
bearing me a message from the First Minister of King 
Louis ” 

The Jew pricked up his ears. 

“Ah, you correspond with Richelieu?” 

“I have that honor, among others. But I am on fur- 
lough, and M. du Vallon brought me an extension!” 

“I was put out in a small boat, and I rescued 
him ” 

“Returning hither to await him.” 

“A regular appointment, between these French gen- 
tlemen,” observed the duchess, significantly. 

Braganza looked around like one who sees in what 
he 'took to be separate links a ahain which might bind 
him. On remarking the Jew, he frowned. 

“Wrecks, wrecks, nothing but wrecks,” said he, pass- 
ing his hand across his brow. “Ill omen!” 

“Not in the slightest, highness!” briskly and bluntly 


King of Portugal. 149 

said the musketeer. “Out of wrecks one oibtains treas- 
ures. M. du Vallon not only brought me an extension 
of leave, but a message intimately concerning ” 

“Concerning me! I shall be glad to hear it?” 

“I do not say it directly concerns your grace; but it 

does directly concern this gentleman ” and he 

clapped his hand on Soleiman’s shoulder, which made 
the latter squirm as if arrested. 

“Gentleman ?” 

“This is Elizor Soleiman, the wealthiest Jew left in 
Portugal! the bravest of Hebrews in that he stays, the 
last of his race who are not converts ! the most generous 
of Israelites in that he devotes his fortune and his finan- 
cial talent, a greater fortune to him who appreciates it, 
to the future of Portugal!” 

The whole assembly in the Petrel’s best room were in 
solemn attention. 

“Oh, these landsmen!” muttered the naval lieutenant, 
“never are they so happy as in cutting the stays before 
they have the mast stepped firmly! I shall get me out 
of this before I am involved neck deep ! I smell halters 
and gibbets!” 

With that he cautiously withdrew. Soleiman looked 
as if he would have liked to do the same ; but he fastened 
his eyes on the man who had praised him like a rabbit 
in a cage with a serpent. 

“This in spite of the Inquisition! Oh, it is only a 
difference of opinion between them!” said the Gascon, 
with his fine irony. “They both want his wealth for a 
propaganda! now they seek to spend it in smo'othing 
the way of the benighted to the Throne Celestial; he 
in smoothing the approaches to the Throne Portuguese. 
I conjecture that never will he trouble himself about 
the Holy Brotherhood if it will confine its power to 
Spain. In the meantime, he is about to start the good 
work with a blow from a golden mallet! Elizor,” con- 
tinued he, suddenly showing him that paper which Por- 
thos had brought over from France and his companion 
warrant, “you will pay to his highness the Duke of 
Braganz'a the sum of one and a half million pesetas of 
silver on these and my verbal order now given, and 
such other sums as are held by you in trust for France, 


150 King of Portugal. 

per deposit of its Prime Minister, whose warrant to 
cover you and me you here see — to the King of Portu- 
gal!" 

‘The K-K-King of Portugal!” 

“Be ye all witness that I am the foremost to hail the 
Duke of Braganza as the King of Portugal,” proceeded 
D’Artagnan, in his inexhaustible vein. 

He went down on one knee and held out his sword, 
hilt first, toward the astonished and overjoyed noble- 
man. 

The latter took it, with his hand tremulous, and went • 
through the performance of knighting the kneeling cap- \ 
tain, saying: 

“Rise, Louis d’Artagnan, hidalgo, grandee, Knight 
Commander of the Holy Cross of Portugal! And as ; 
for your companion, who brings such good tidings, I 
make him grandee!” i 

“A grandee ! What will madame say ?” gasped Por- 
thos. “Long live the King of Portugal!” shouted he, 
as if to be heard at S'an Sebastian at least. i 

“As for this courageous and talented Soleiman,” con- 
tinued Braganza, who had fallen into this bestowal of 
gifts, which cost him nothing, with truly royal facility, 

“I appoint him my private privy pursebearer, with a 
seat at the Council of State for financial matters. For 
further honors, let us not anticipate time!” 

His wife looked at him admiringly. This was to be 
a real king ! Her pupil was promising ! 

Jacinta gazed on D’Artagnan. Soleiman might be 
wealthy and cunning, the duke gracious and generous, 
the duchess correct in her presage; but, to her, all 
turned on her hero — D’Artagnan was the hand spinning 
the ball which, by its course upon the dais of state and 
its fall into the winning pit, or off the board, was to 
decide everything. 

“Death of my life!” said the musketeer, to Porthos, 
in a dazzled state, “look at this ! Over a million in the 
strong box, two such swords as ours, this petty nucleus 
of an army — less than this has conquered a kingdom! 
But,” with a sigh, “I miss that brave, sensible Pedro 
and his brethren of the coast!” 

There could not have been an e'avesdropper in those 


King of Portugal. 1511 

seamen; but this news had spread. The men of the 
Messier and the Spanish servants were fraternizing over 
a cask of Hollands broached by the lavish Quaqua. 
They flourished their staves and their cutlasses, and re- 
peated. 

“Long live Juan IV., King of Portugal!’' 


CHAPTER XXL 

THIN THREADS^ BUT STRONG. 

As a military organizer, the king’s musketeer thor- 
oughly proved his capability. Without showing it su- 
perficially, Las Salinas was soon transformed. As the 
fishers came in, straggling from having stood out to the 
north to avoid the storm center, or from the south, 
where they had sought refuge round the headland, they 
were marshaled into a kind of flying picket. No sur- 
prise by sea was possible. 

Fortunately, far g'aining time, San: 'Sebastian was 
badly damaged. Squalls continued, alternating with 
land breezes, so that search along shore from that port 
was limited. The particular search was for the noble 
prinice on the Amor de Dios, who was reported cer- 
tainly dead, as no survivors were discovered, though 
portions of her hull were met at every turn. Her dead 
were identified and not treated any too well, from being 
classed as would-be traitors. All allusion to the as- 
sassination was prohibited. Not one of the searchers 
came into view of the spies from Las Salinas, and those 
fishers who were directed by D’Artagnan to gO' to the 
har'bor for news, returned with useless advices as re- 
garded the first stronghold of the upstart monarch. 

He had a long conference with Soleiman and the 
Frenchman, after which he departed, glad in a measure 
at having the disbursement of the cash, for the pleasure 
of some money-lovers is in the spending thereof. Be- 
tween the duke’s special knowledge of the officers of 
trust whom he was to bribe, and the local knowledge 
D’Artagnan had acquired in his tour of investigation, 
he ought to remove many a stumbling block when the 
pretender advanced with a force. 

Juan de Braganza had a sea guard, under the ex-'lieu- 
tenant of the Messier^ whom he created knight and 
naval commander; a land guard under D’Artagnan and 
Porthos, his second; a treasurer in the Soleiman; and 


Thin Threads, but Strong. 153 

a fine chance of escape to a French port if things turned 
out adversely. Above all, he had a wife of worth, who 
valued him as never before. The tribute of the French- 
man to his valor and self-sacrifice clasped her to him 
so that she resolved to win or die. 

But fever visits him on the throne steps as on the 
truckle bed. After the narrow escape from drowning 
came the prostration from which he did not so easily 
extricate himself as the inured soldier. 

More than once, by his sick bed, the watchers feared 
that he would never more take an active step, and that 
King Philip might well rate him out of the lists. 

In the painful interval of his rallying and recovering, 
a fisher or two, whom D’Artagnan had had Pedro’s 
word that they might be relied upon, went away with 
advices to Oporto, Lisbon and northern points. 

Their returns came by other fishers, smugglers and 
chapmen, sure hands; D’Artagnan received them, smil- 
ing secretly in his mustache; he saw a very far-reaching 
hand in the composition of these excellent tidings, 
showing that the guiding spirit in this overturning was 
a finer one than the Braganzas. 

“These are thin threads, but strong,” thought he. 
“My word on it, they will be twisted into a rope which 
will strangle Spain!” 

It was due to the ladies, who pressed the fisherwomen 
into service, that the interior of the Petrel was altered 
into comfort, nay, brilliancy. Sailcloth made arras, but 
over the canvas spread rugs, carpets, tapestry, of the 
choicest Oriental weaves, which came out of Pedro’s 
lockers, but would have been envied by dwellers at St. 
Germain’s, the Escurial or Whitehall. 

The Braganzas, in this hermitage, sometimes did not 
regret their place at Villaviciosa. 

From a stranded whale a profusion of oil had been 
extracted, so that they baked lamps in clay after the 
antique pattern, bowl-shaped with protruding beaks; 
these, with candles, so illuminated the reception-room 
that one entering, from Italy, for example, would have 
believed he was in the Chapel of the Child-in-the-Man- 
ger, at Naples Cathedral. 

“You will be able to mount a horse, or begin a voyage 


154 Thin Threads, but Strong. 

before long/’ pleasantly said the duchess to her hus- 
band as, with renewed appetite, he finished his hearty 
meal with a rustic '‘milkpot,” that is a kind of custard 
without eggs. “Let us come to an understanding in 
the between-whiles.” 

“About what?” 

“This plot ” 

“I thought that all cut-and-dried, though not hung 
Up! We are of accord are we not, to a title? For you 
conspired for me, ay! and did so before I harbored the 
intention.” 

“How co'uld that be when you were born for the 
Portuguese throne? How be it, I am plotting against 
myself!” 

Braganza shook his head, not seeing the reasoning. 
In fact, although this woman probably understood him 
to the uttermost, he never yet had fathomed one to 
whom he might owe a throne. 

“You look forward with rapture to your ascension to 
the separate throne?” 

“Not exactly rapture! It is joy of a kind. It is a 
thorny seat. Portugal is badly situated for a peaceful 
monarch — between the deep sea and Spain. I shall be 
likened to the man on the cliff edge, with Satan walk- 
ing on his landward side!” 

“Dear Juan, when you are seated at the fountain’s 
mouth, disposing of offices, posts, places, honors, rib- 
bons, stars — with this foreign loan trying to fill the 
sieves of the court Danaides, the favorites, all will ab- 
sorb your time, business and leisure, save your wife.” 

“Absurd, my dear!” he replied, reproachfully. 

“It is a queen’s destiny! they are married for policy 
and reasons of State! It is glorious for pride, but 
wearing on the heart ! I am proud — ^the Gonzagas 
have that weakness — but I have a heart. I accept your 
fate — you I shall never blame! Not only have I wifely 
affection ” 

Spontaneously he uttered a “Heaven bless you!” 

“But above all, devotion of a true friend is mine.” 

“I know that, and I thank the Giver of Good for it 
all!” 


Thin Threads, but Strong. 155 

“Being my duty, I do not want to be thanked too 
warmly for that, sir!” 

“Then, despite this future of jealous fears — chimeras, 
truly — you conspire for me against yourself?” 

“Against my happiness, I believe!” 

“Well, there is an old detestation in our race against 
the distafif — the Braganzas have heretofore, relied on 
the sword, but I fear me, since Christianity emanci- 
pated woman from the seraglio, that we must some- 
times be grateful to them and receive their gifts. Upon 
my honor, though humiliating, I would sooner owe my 
crown to you than to those French swordsmen’s blades, 
and, far mor^, than to the Soleiman’s purse ! But coftie, 
how about you/r plots — since however remote they spring 
and perchance deviously run, they flow into the same 
channel? You know all about mine, precipitated now 
by King Philip attacking me in person. I am not 'sup- 
pressed’ — I am forced to return the blow! They call 
me ‘The Mole,’ do they? Well, dragged out of my 
burrow, I shall fight, open-eyed!” 

In his eye was a savage gleam and none would recog- 
nize at that instant the supposed model prince content 
at his sovereign’s footstool. 

“Well, Juan, while you have been spreading the toils 
abroad, I have enlisted the ladies throughout Portu- 
gal ” 

“A crusade of the Eleven Thousand Virgins!” 

“All they ask in return for their jewels, their hus- 
bands, sons, brothers and sweethearts, is a brilliant 
court!” 

“I see! feasts, galas, regattas, tauric combats, balls! 
Astute policy! this will gratify and repay the trading 
and merchant classes. And the vulgar like to look on 
over the hedge of soldiers!” 

“Therefore, throughout the kingdom, I have three 
parts on my side, that is, your side!” 

“Good! My lady, you are, may happen, wiser than 
I. I am like the sea watch w^ho sees clearer what is 
farthest off. You have been angling at home, while 
I have been trawling in distant waters.” 

“At least, I have played with my own line at my 
fingers’ ends — ^your grace must needs employ agents?” 


1156 Thin Threads, but Strong. 

“As if I were already consecrated, I sent out ambassa- 
dors. They were, to begin with, that lineal descendant 
of the Rhymer of Albuterra, the versifier of our first 
King of Portugal — Don Joa de Palamo ” 

“He is nephew of the Archbishop of Lisbon, no 
friend 

“Because he is the king’s deputy for Portugal? One 
must be somebody’s nephew! Then comes the Cabal- 
lero Roha, called Rodrigo, the Lord Paramount of the 
Marches of Ortalegra ” 

“A college companion of Olivarez himself!” 

“That cannot be — the is too young — it was Luis de 
Haro, the Prime Minister’s relative, who went to Evora 
University with Joa; a boy could not foresee what his 
playmates would arrive to !” 

“Any other?” inquired the lady, evidently convinced 
that her inveterate husband would not readily renounce 
his selections. 

“Fra Benito, of Segovia, who was the Caballero de 
Mariagalante before he took orders — somewhat loosely, 
they say — ^not a sackcloth, -but a net 'through which he 
can slip at intervals. Is he a religious brother or a lay 
one? I myself believe that, when he entered the mon- 
astery from the cavalry barracks he thought he could 
walk through the cloisters and out into the palace gate- 
way! Never was dashing dragoon more pious when 
he was in the horse company — ^never is priest so war- 
like since he put on the hood! But he is useful, this 
man who can pray with the priests and prey with the 
free-lances!” 

“I suppose chameleons are useful! What powers 
have these versatile ambassadors been accredited to?” 

“Don Joa, who speaks French, of Paris, went to 
Louis, with a view of securing support of the old nobil- 
ity whom Cardinal Richelieu has estranged ” 

“Estranged is a mild term for the enmity at being 
decimated by the sanguinary prelate!” 

“Hush ! speak well of the bridge which carries us over ! 
The intestinal differences there matters not, now! We 
have the great premier on our side, bound to UB with 
golden bonds. A fig for the boar-sticking king, whose 
wife is our Philip’s sister — ^never would France have 


Thin Threads, but Strong. 157 

couched her lance upon Spain had it not been for the car- 
dfinal-duke, <wiho leveled it, for he hates Anna of Aus- 
tria 

''A fine prince of the Church to hate a wife for re- 
jecting his addresses!” 

“Mere chatter of the boudoirs, and musty! Every 
coin he tells out to relieve Portugal of her bugbear tells 
me he is a great man ! She is an aging coquette !” 

“The older she grows, the better some like her! I 
wish she, too, was our friend! Being our enemy — ‘let 
her trot by!’ What have these ambassadors been 
doing ?” 

“Ortalegra’s Lord saw the Duke of Savoy, but he is 
a sorely beaten man; he passed through Holland, but 
the wary Dutch, hearing that their hereditary foes, the 
Spanish, are reconstructing their fleet after their own 
models, want to see the result before they engage them 
again or engage themselves with others. If these imi- 
tations swim — well, they will fight them, not in our 
waters, but in the East Indies. As for England ” 

“Pardon me, these envoys, who have drawn blanks, 
do you fully tjnist them?” 

“Madame, I trust nobody, outside my family!” and 
Braganza smiled like an Oriental, rather than a Vandal. 

“Those gentlemen betray you! You have lost your 
money!” 

“I paid them in promises!” 

“That makes it the more likely you are deceived; 
where the master’s wage is air, the servants get their 
sustenance from the guests. .What did you really hope 
from the French Court?” 

“Little! The king might send me a boar’s head, of 
his own killing, mounted in silver, on a Palissy platter! 
In France the king must not kill higher game than 
boars — here, in Spain, the king tries to kill — ^princes !” 

The woman shuddered. 

“Never heed! Thanks to Richelieu — an anchor! we 
can ride the storm through, at that!” 

“What did you expect from England, Luis, from a 
king besotted and wedded to a bigot ?” 

“Not money! Yet a force of those subjects whom 
he is so discontenting that they fade away like mists! 


158 Thin Threads, but Strong. 

Instead, he lets them slip away to the colonies, or ships 
them there! a pity for us, as the sons of those who beat 
off the Grand Armada might give a good account of 
the Spanish off San Sebastian! Ah, to have twenty sail 
of them under my banner! It cannot be helped — the 
Stuart will not help Braganza! Heaven help him, then! 
I doubt not, see you, darling! that when I wear the 
crown, he will be lacking his — or his head!” 

'‘What do you mean?” she said, in horror. 

“Only that Roha sent me, by the smuggler’s post, a 
pasquin in which it was advised, as a certain exalted 
person had a 'stiff neck,’ that a sharp ax would be 
needed, with a tough stock! The allusion is clear! par- 
ticularly so to me, from having seen Charles depicted 
in an Amsterdam-printed lampoon as St. Denis, with 
his decollated head under his arm — a, caricature of a 
Velasquez portrait.” 

“The wo-rld will come to an end when sovereigns are 
beheaded like mere saints and martyrs! Incredible! 
But how did your cavalier-priest fare?” 

“Mariagalante went straight to Rome. The Pope 
wishes to reign twenty-five years without too many wars. 
He will, I reckon, try to keep Spain passive, if I raise the 
standard of revolt.” 

“Keep Spain passive? All the States of the Church, 
all the riches of the prince-cardinals, all the bulls and 
epistles, these would not keep Spain from replying blow 
to blow with an assailant! Oh, these churchm.en who 
live in libraries and do not know yet Spain’s three- 
worded vocabulary ” 

“I do not know it myself — ^what is it?” 

“Blood, fire and war! The Spaniard is cradled, swad- 
dled, exercised and buried to that tribrach!” 

“True! After all, I did know that! and shall know 
still more before we have done this business!” said Bra- 
ganza, frowning and drawing a deep breath, as if pre- 
paring for no mean struggle. 

Jacinta appeared at the hanging, cutting across the 
hall, so as to make a retiring-room beyond. 

“Please your grace, two strangers have found their 
way here. When I say strangers, I think I know them 
a little. They come from inland on poor mountain 


Thin Threads, but Strong, 159 

ponies — ^but they are not vulgar — they answered the 
password correctly.” 

“They must be our envoys,” said Braganza; “they 
have received the intelligence to direct them to our 
refuge. Let in the one who answered ‘Whitehall and 
The Hague.’ It is Ortalegra,” he went on to his con- 
sort. “Do not you go away. You have already pro- 
nounced on them — 'but stay ” 

“To give out my sentence?” 

“Oh, a woman is always too merciful!” 

The duchess went and took seat w<here the light did 
not fall too glaringly. She narrowly scanned the per- 
son ushered in. 


CHAPTER XXIL 

REBELLION BEGETS REBELS. 

The Lord of Ortalegra was of medium stature, heav- 
ily built; it would seem that an ancestor had brought 
ho-me from Flanders a wife of another type than his own. 
He had folds in his jowl and neck; his eyes were blue, 
with the edge of the iris defined in darker shade ; they 
were good ; his nose was not noble ; his hair and trim 
beard were flaxen, a remarkable thing, perhaps, but some 
of the Portuguese show tokens of the Gothic and Vandal 
invasions. 

His horseman's cloak covered a suit of yellow; this 
was Spanish livery, no doubt, but, on the other hand, 
it is Apollo’s color ; and Ortalegra was a poetaster — but 
by no means an aster of poesy. 

“I expected you, Rodrigo ! I knew you would come 
on the Winged Steed, if possible, so tractable to you 
singers ! This is the duchess, of whom you have sweetly 
sung, and before whom you can discourse, I hope, as 
sweetly !” 

‘‘For such an audience, my lord and my lady, I should 
have been more fleet — if I had good tidings !” He 
looked round, but he must have had a hint that the re- 
ception-rooms were not in a palace; he made no allu- 
sion to the duke’s escape from the licensed sea bravos, 
but yet he might not have met the news, certainly not 
published by herald’s mouth to cry of trumpet. 

“What, nothing to be had out of the cold north?’' 

“Cold comfort! Charles I. is at daggers-drawn with 
his perverse subjects : soldiers unpaid, merchants who 
will not pay up, courtiers snarling because coin falls into 
the churchwarden’s bag and not on the basset-board, 
faithless emigrants carrying trade secrets into that New 
England ” 

“No prospect of a few ships and able seamen? for 
England abounds in both, good, sound, ready 1” 


Rebellion Begets Rebels i6i 

Ortalegra shrugged his shoulders, between which his 
head disappeared by half. 

“Not a plank, not a toy for my poor lord !” 

“I can only hope,’' took up Braganza, wiping his brow 
with his sleeve as if to hide discontent, “that things will 
be brighter in that sunny France of brother Louis ?” 

“I doubt any good outcome there, my lord !’’ 

“Why should you doubt it ?” the duke snapped him up. 

“Only because, on my return, my packet out of Dover 
being driven into The Hague, there happed to be Don 
Joa of Palama waiting for a ship southward bound.” 

“What was Don Joa doing there?” 

“He was informed that the road through Spain to 
Madrid was lined with ‘evil gentry’ — and, not to be de- 
layed, knowing your lordship was fretting, he went back 
into the Netherlands. So we sailed homeward in com- 
pany, as far as Bordeaux, whence we rode ” 

“By the Right Faith ! any one who knew not how 
faithful ye are, might suggest you change your motto, 
Don Rodrigo, from ‘Serve the King!’ to ‘Be Strong by 
Concord !’ It would look to the suspicious spectator 
that you and your brother ambassador met by collusion 
and collated matters 1” 

“Sire, pure hazard brought us under the Prince of 
Orange’s ensign.” 

“Where did you leave your semper fidelis, Don Joa, 
then ?” 

“Your grace,’^ replied the other, slowly, as if he had to 
pick his words now, “at San Sebastian we found rare 
agitation. The weather has been terrible. The wrecks 
are numerous. The orders were out for the utmost dili- 
gence to be exercised in seeking the poor wretches 
drowned. They were hunting for the dead bodies as if 
each had a pocketful of the treasure from their hapless 
ships — you may know that in face of total ruin, the word 
goes : ‘Pocket the gold ! each is treasurer here I’ ” 

“Oh, they were recovering the dead to plunder! not 
correct in his majesty’s soldiers and sailors, eh?” 

“They were seeking ” he paused, not sure how 

much was known of the outer world in this isolated nook. 
“They were seeking the officers and passengers of con- 


1 62 Rebellion Begets Rebels, 

sequence — 'because there had been a festa at a neighbor- 
ing port — a new vessel was put on the water.” 

“I have heard about that ! Go on !” 

^‘Large galleys had been cracked on the Mole in try- 
ing to enter, like nuts in a baboon’s claw! We con- 
cluded that, even with our servants united, we could not 
make much way against the wreckers, who hovered 
around the regular searchers, sparing no one who raised 
his voice against their pilfering, and so, came on. At a 
little village we left our varlets and hurried here.” 

“It was well not to publish this retreat as yet. Would 
you kindly call Don Joa?” Braganza rose to cause the 
other to draw back. “I am deficient in ushers.” 

“A fig ; the court comes where the king is !” said the 
envoy pleasantly, and, smiling, he obeyed. 

During his fleeting disappearance under the hanging, 
fhe duke stepped up beside (his wife and whispered to 
her : 

“Flattery so soon 1 where the flatterers are, a fool is 
near 1” 

“Don’t you be the fool, Luis! Now, do you doubt 
the game they are playing?” 

“Madame, usually only the mighty are betrayed' — why 
gull the fondly believing?” 

“Because it is doubly base, and the traitor cannot 
stoop too low !” 

When Don Roha was seen next he was accompanied 
by his fellow noble. 

Don Joa de Palama was an elderly man ; one of those 
who dry up at a certain age, and never after show the 
progress of time ; their hair grizzles but does not bleach ; 
their eyes sink, but do not dull; their teeth wear down 
but do not fall out. In eighty years they do more harm, 
if double-dealing and vicious, than a worthy good man 
does good in a century; perhaps, that is why these evil- 
doers rarely live to be a hundred. 

“Come in boldly, Don J'oa,” said the duke, affably. 
“For I have been fortified as to the bad tidings tarnish- 
ing your usually golden smile !” 

It was a sickly smile Palama wore. 

“Welladay! yea, good my lord, bad!’^ sighed he. 


Rebellion Begets Rebels. 163 

“You met no obstacles to your seeing the King of 
France?” 

“I saw him several times, truly. There were no diffi- 
culties, but the site of the interviews was not agreeable 
to a quiet man like me.” 

“Really, ill-chosen, you say?” 

“King Louis was always out hunting !” 

The duke exchanged a glance signifying “I told you 
so !” with his lady. 

“And, somehow, I have an antipathy to dogs and 
hawks — they will snap at me !” 

“They know a good thing when they see it ! But he 
listened to you in spite of that distraction ?” 

“As well as he could, between firing of a gun on a 
rest, and fleshing, in bucks, the knife to which he seldom 
gave a rest !” 

“Since you bandy words, I foretell that he refused my 
offer, if I mounted the Portuguese throne, to so worry 
my neighbor that he would not worry his next to the 
north, for a lifetime — at least, for my lifetime !” 

“Well, he neither refused nor accepted. He said tbat, 
as a wedded man, you would understand that he would 
not offend his queen by rending her brother’s and his 
brother’s (by court etiquette) kingdom asunder! He 
added that he could not see the event — he positively 
would not see it — ^but he would wink if your grace suc- 
cessfully attempted it ! The gracious king would wink I” 

“Mere words — anything more, if not better?” 

“He said that he had killed a stag ‘of ten,’ and would 


“Have it mounted in silver and sent me on a platter of 
Palissy pottery ” 

“How did your grace know that?” cried Palama, 
opening his eyes widely. 

The duke laughed toward his lady grimly. 

“I have an astrologist-soothsayer,” said he, “who looks 
into the To-Come deeper than that 1” 

“Further, he referred me to his First Minister.” 

“Ah, not like master, like man! Did the Duke of 
Richelieu hear you with as much courtesy as his king?” 

“There was courtesy enoug^h ! Here was no longer a 
shredded conversation between antlers, tusks and fangs ! 


164 Rebellion Begets Rebels. 

but we conversed over treaties of peace, truces, protocols, 
proposals for a congress of European pacification, a fit- 
ting field on which to broach a plot to disrupt a sister- 
kingdom ! Ay de mi! a great change has come over the 
cardinal-minister, whom I saw at the Passage of the 
Doire, on foot, like the meanest servant-of-the-guns, un- 
der 'the 'hail and freezing rain, whizzing down from the 
mountains, when the French army, after giving the Ital- 
ians a drubbing, shouted : 

“ ‘Long live the bellicose prelate !’ ” 

“My lord, the Cardinal Duke of Richelieu is a dying 
tree. He whined to me that France was a-weary of broils, 
that her captains fought only with wine-pots in hand, 
that their swords hung in the second-hand iron-dealers’ 
stalls because they had no pay and had to dispose of them 
for misthrows of the dice; that he was overcome by the 
Pope’s chiding him for turbulence, for stirring up of 
strife. He showed me the Holy Father’s autograph — 
he pointed with a trembling finger, scarce able to hold 
up the ring, to a line where he was characterized as a 
firebrand! He protested that he would have to walk 
barefoot to Rome in penance if again he lent a troop 
of horse or a file of musketeers, to say nothing of a 
trifle of fifty thousand livres to support the most just of 
rebellions 1^’ 

The duchess held her great fan to her face to hide 
her discomfiture — or her merriment. 

The duke showed only impatience. 

“But as concerns me 1” 

“Oh, he said, ‘Ah, me! would your Duke of Braganza 
become a king let him take an old statesman’s warning, 
one who speaks out of that hollow veil, the grave : “Do 
not set a sail too large for your ship !” ’ ” 

“I am indebted to his eminence — for nothing!” re- 
sponded the ambitious one, with' palpable jeering. 
“There is always some gain in learning an aged politi- 
cian’s advice — if one runs counter to it ! It may chance 
that the ship can bear more than the critics surmise! 
It will suffice, by Heaven’s will, if it carry the honor of 
Braganza into the haven !” 

“What! does your grace persist in his monstrous in- 


Rebellion Begets Rebels. 165 

itention!’’ ejaculated Palama, 'surprised, but nudged by 
his companion to express their feelings. 

Braganza lifted his hand as though it held a sword. 

“Braganza will quarter the Five Moors' Heads of Por- 
tugal again on its coat, or — lose its own single one !" 

“If you fail ” 

“Another trial will be made. Tlie second of an end- 
less series of essays ! He conquers who endures !" 

“What, persist, after our intelligence?” said Roha, as 
if affronted. 

“On my estates there is a peasant's phrase — plain 
talk, plain folk, you know — ‘He who squints abroad, will 
not see straight at home.' If you have misinformed me, 
it is because you let yourselves be misinformed!” 

The two counterplotters looked at him, but dropped 
their eyes. Never had the moody prince seemed so 
glorified. They ventured to consult one the other visu- 
ally. Here stood a man, and a woman was, alone, by — 
they were two swordsmen — and the King of Spain would 
reward as well for the head of this arch-rebel on its body 
as off ! 

They were checked in putting any plan into action by 
the hanging being withdrawn behind them. Not want- 
ing to be taken in the rear, they turned. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

^IRST SWORD^ THEN SCEPTRE. 

It was only Donna Jacinta who tripped in, a step or 
two, saying archly : 

“It is the visitors' day at Petrel Palace ! Your grace, 
Father Benito begs the favor oi a hearing ” 

“Fra Benito?" 

“From St. Peter’s Patrimony direct ’’ 

“Glad to receive the reverend father! He speaks 
sparingly, but he does not spare the rod of chastening 
wisdom." 

Between themselves, the two hidalgoes smiled, for they 
best knew whether this was an ally or a disputant who 
came so timely. 

Jacinta had instantly ushered in a man in a monk’s 
frock and cowl ; his bare feet had been tanned by dye — or 
long exposure, so as to defy mud to color them ; some 
treatment — or severe journeys, had made the soles hardy 
against gravel, and his ankles impervious to brambles. 

On the breast of the cape attached to his ample cowl 
was a white cross, probably to indicate he was a Domini- 
can, but, on closer view, there could be made out, in its 
centre, embroidered with a fine needle, a naked sword 
in a laurel wreath, looking like a cross again. This was 
the insignia of the Holy Inquisition. 

Fra Benito, of Segovia, was one of those ambiguous 
persons of the times; it was always in doubt whether 
they were high church dignitaries having a dispensation 
from certain vows — if they took any in putting on the 
garb ; or, lay brothers allowed to wear the robe and ec- 
clesiastical marks in order better to execute mysterious 
services. It was asserted that he was deeply learned ; 
while, on the other part, he was accused of letting his 
more reverend name cover pamphlets of controversy 
which, from their variety, it is said, could not have 
flowed from a single pen. Fortunately — we say, fortu- 
nately — the uncultivated herd who light fires and lamps 


First Sword, then Sceptre. 167 

with any paper ‘^spoilt” by ink marks, have left not a 
line to parade his or his inspirator’s work. 

His was a long-drawn face, with straight nose which 
farther lengthened it; his eyes were fine, but too close 
together; his brows met in a bar across; his chin was 
pointed. One would have said that an impudent nurse 
had left him to sleep too long on one side and had put a 
folio on the other to keep him quiet. His skin was 
leatherlike, and bad the oil oozing at the pores, which 
suggested that he bathed in one of those unctuous ex- 
tracts which, at the time, were supposed to give long life. 

A man with a set purpose, this Benito. 

When he was a soldier, he was poor in purse ; though 
rich in projects, which his superiors did not adopt. 

If he was still poor, perhaps, he had taken the vow of 
poverty. 

It was on his tongue that he carried his silver; he 
preached eloquently. 

Impenetrable, indomitable^ indefatigable — these were 
his points. 

He pretended that he had footed it all the way to and 
from Rome; then, he must have been assisted by angel 
wings — considering his fleetness ; but he had not a jot of 
the pride illuminating the usual pilgrim to the Sacred 
City. 

His glance was quick but comprehensive in surveying 
the paltry reception-room. He recognized the duchess 
without even a nod; he eyed her attendant with repul- 
sion, of which she had not a clew to the cause — it might 
be another vow of hate to the sex; for the courtiers he 
scarcely began a bow, although they had bent lowly to 
him. 

' His head did not bend to the duke, but he opened his 
hands and twiddled the fingers in a kind of salaam. 

Maybe it was a mythical sign only mutual, but the 
duchess turned red, and her maid of honor bit her lip at 
the slight and let the screen fall behind her to blot out 
the sight. 

‘‘I have been showered with unwelcome intelligence,^’ 
'Said Braganza. '‘Are you bringing cheer, per contra, 
reverend father?” 

"I have returned from his Holiness and your other 


1 68 First Sword, then Sceptre. 

friends/* was the evasive reply of the Dominican, folding 
his lean hands within his flowing sleeves so that now 
nothing was seen of his upper person but the nose and 
eyes of the acute physiognomy. 

‘"Do you mean that is all? that you were in danger of 
leaving your skin, as a' foe to Spain ?” 

The thin hands came out like a knot of snakes, but it 
was to haul up a rosary of fragrant sandal wood, depend- 
ent at his side, as a trained blackbird pulls up its seed 
bucket, and they -set to running the beads through them. 
He might be murmuring a prayer of thanks for an escape. 

“Your highness has enemies who have resolved his 
death and his friends*.*’ 

“There is evidence of it! Yet all men who walk on 
high have death on the other side to that of the guardian- 
angel — dukes and rope-dancers 1 Go on I About my 
friends? God helping, we shall know how to deal with 
our enemies the more easily when they are avowed I” 

The tone was so emphatic that the three passed a but 
feebly encouraging glance among them. 

“Friends ? — your highness stands alone.** 

“I hear that no help comes out of the north, true! 

But as a scholar — you know : 'Non solus He stands 

not alone whom God stands beside.* ** 

“You are as wise as your foregoer, El Sabio, but more 
than wisdom is required to pluck the beard of the lion !*’ 
“Though the lion (Leon, the province of Spain) is 
housed in a triple Castle (Castile) I am going to pluck 
the beard, and as much flesh as comes with it in my 
grasp I Be the finisih limned with water in dust, or writ- 
ten with a pen of gold on a silver leaf, the record will 
stand. If the plow goes, I will hold the handles or 
drive the reins ! Woe to those who fall under driver, 
horse or plow !** 

The hearers shivered ; but the monk gave one of those 
irritating cackles, part laugh, part cough, which come 
frjpm judges tickled with jail fever. 

“My lord, your friends doubt your ability. There, the 
sharp word is out !*’ 

^When men speak ill, one must live so as to belie 
them. But what friends — the false ones?** 

“The Cardinal Banuccio, for one !’* 


First Sword, then Sceptre. 169 

'‘I do believe in him! What does he think — not of 
me — a straw ! but of my project?’’ 

“The answer he sent is a jewel — an icterias ” 

“The stone to cure jaundice I Then, he — — 

“Believes you a sick prince, and blessed with visions !” 

“Pardy; to see a crown — celestial — is to be a Car- 
dinal! To see one earthly, is to be a sick-brain! I 
thank the sage in scarlet ! As for Giustinanio ?” 

“He is besotted with fatty degeneration, I lament lo 
say! It was very throatily that he gurgled: (imitating) 
that he had a horoscopist in his secretary, who had fore- 
cast your grace’s fate by Catoptromancy, which is done 
by dipping a mirror in water ” 

“I think, I know — I saw two professors of it burnt at 
Madrid for the practice — one tells by the figures traced 
on the glass by the water remaining ” 

“No doubt. Your highness’ figure stood alone among 
circles — ciphers ” 

“By the sword which smote the Five Emirs!” cried 
Braganza, warmly, losing his great patience at being 
badgered before his wife, “I shall prove that when the 
figure is followed by ciphers enough, it is a million 
strong !” 

Up rose the duchess with a flaming cheek. 

“What nonsense, father !” she said, in the monk’s face. 
“Every old woman knows that it is a trick; you draw 
the figure desired on the glass with a candle-end so that 
the water clouds the surface where there is no grease! 
Pshaw ! these are fool-traps beneath a primate’s heed.” 

Caught between two fires, the monk mumbled, in his 
cowl, within which he had receded like a tortoise, 

“What did the Prince Famese say?” 

“He said that he would have the Trigintals said for 
your highness in his private chapel !” 

“Thirty masses ! as if I were dead and gone ! By the 
Inexhaustible Grace ! there will be newly-dead, dying de- 
ploring that I did not follow some false beacon into the 
Pit ! But the Pope, our Holy Urban, what he sends may 
not be gold, but it will be worth it !” 

“The Holy Father said — said ” he stammered, as 

if he were rolling a hot but toothsome morsel over his 


1 70 First Sword, then Sceptre. 

tongue, he said, urbanely enough : “Cups have two han- 
dles, in order that two men may make a choice ” 

“Of the contents 

“Of the handles.’^ 

“Propound !” 

“That Christians should agree. Xet Philip and Juan 
reign over Spain and Portugal, turn by turn !’ 

“Imbecile!” burst forth the prince, for once losing 
self-command at so much straining of his patience and 
self-respect. 

Fra Benito crossed himself and rattled his beads like 
bones in a dance of death ; the nobles made similar signs ; 
even the duchess looked demure, like a maid which had 
overheard a naughty word. 

Singularly, a low, smothered laugh was vaguely heard ; 
not Donna Jacinta, surely, if she had overheard the libel ; 
but, plainly, no one in this region laughed at the general 
Abbo — no, this was some menial, and the sound merely 
accidentally coinciding. 

“Yes, my lord,” went on the monk, recovering and 
burning to resent the slur by a bitter retort, “he said 
that he believed you were true descendant of Queen 
Joanna ” 

“Of ‘Crazy Jane !’ I thank him, for the knowledge of 
my line ! Fortunately, a little wit will serve a fortunate 
man !” 

“Your highness fortunate?” sneered the rash monk, 
who was rapidly becoming a soldier again. 

The others seemed to repeat the doubt to themselves. 

“Certainly, Juan of Braganza is a fortunate prince — 
has he not a commendiable sj>ouse, and faithful ad- 
herents ” 

The nobles force a smile, but dubiously. They were a 
little .inattentive. That faint laugh out of t»he other had 
puzzled them. They seemed listening to some other 
sounds, of more meaning, as one guessing an appointed 
'hour wishes the assurance of the clock sitroke. 

“From the excellent opinion which the Holy Father 
and my Romish friends entertain of me, I see that it will 
not be his lips to entone the T e Deiim for my victories ! 
It will be the cannon’s mouth !” 

“Blessed Chains of St. Peter! do you still consider 


First Sword, then Sceptre. 171 

war with Spain ! you, with no friend in Christendom !” 
cried the astonished monk. “Beware of the Heavenly 
wrath ! Reject the word of the Lord through his Ser- 
vant, and you will be rej.ected from being King over 

Israel ! Think of the Papal ire. Oh, remember ” and 

he chanted with no more reverence than if he were re- 
citing a barrack-room lilt, on an air of Palestrina’s : 

“Where wrath of God is, 

The heavy rod is 
That ruins our bodies !” 

“Peace!” thundered the duke. “Enough with such 
supremacy!” that even the reformed Mariagalante was 
hushed. 

In the silence, at the distance, a trumpet blast was to 
be heard, on land; while, at sea, the detonation of a 
heavy gun resounded. 

All lifted their heads, and while a cloud darkened the 
duke and duchess, the light which their countenance lost 
■seemed reflected upon the monk’s and the two envoys. 
They felt satisfaction in some degree. 

“Gentlemen, nothing that you had to say dissuades me 
from my resolve. My colors are stitched to my cap ! 
King Philip wished me to be his pensioner ; but one may 
buy his ease too dear! King Philip wished to rock me 
to my death in the cradle of a bom'barded man-of-war ! 
Yea, out at sea there ! — that shot too clearly reminds me ! 
for these deeds shun the eye of man ! He tried to hoist 
me with his petards higher than my ambition soars ! Or 
send me to the bottomless whirl where the perfidious 
angels fell ! It is a duel to the death between us, mark 
that well !” 

“A duel !” 

“If you will not be my seconds, you must stand off the 
field ; for I shall strike down all that buckler him ! this 
crowned Nightmare on Humanity’s breast ! 

“I have not solely relied on such as you and those 
false friends with whom you colleagued much too closely ! 
Summer will disclose what winter ‘hid ! Never will he 
wound who fears to strike! I know it is a coffin or a 
crown ! but I will pierce this Leviathan whose flounder- 
ing carcase burdens the ocean; after the stricken whale 
has sunk, in the wake ruddied with his gore, a myriad 


172 First Sword, then Sceptre. 

happy fish will sport, and feed, and thrive! So do the 
subjects of a despot enjoy their halcyon hour when he is 
swept away! Yes, the harpooner may be carried down 
by the fatal lance, but his memory lives and inspires an- 
other, who may better taste the fruit of victory. Crown 
me not King, if I shall not be the Liberator, too 1 

“Do you follow? the king’s favor is no inheritance — 
it must be earned. Please me, and prosper I It is hard 
to live at Court w^ith the king at variance ! Men reward 
with pasture in its old age the steed that carried, not the 
one that threw 1” 

He was interrupted by the cannon seaward and the 
trumpet inland, strong though his exhortation had been. 

The two nobles advanced as though to offer him the 
homage solicited. 

“Sirs, the ship is ready. I am going to Oporto with 
those dear to me !” 

The duchess had risen. At the opening, her maid ap- 
peared. 

“What is that, my lord?” asked Don Joa, of any one 
who could enlighten. 

“I say,” continued the prince, “that my friends in Por- 
tugal await me, and that I shall sit on the throne in Lis- 
bon Palace, or I shall have joined my ancestors in the 
tombs therein !” 

“Will not your grace,” urged Roha, “permit a hum- 
ble servitor to show the rashness of this step ” 

“Gentlemen, I am decided. Follow or fall ” 

“Sure,” persisted Joa in a bolder tone, having the 
monk ranged conspicuously by his side as the noble sup- 
<ported him on Ijhe other; “we do not believe it is our 
duty, as your grace's well-desiring lieges, to let you rush 
upon a certain doom ! In such a case our devotion com- 
pels ” 

“Do you mean you would compel me?’' began Bra- 
ganza, indignantly. 

“Our duty — hear us ! compels us to oppose such de- 
parture I” 

The duke laughed in their faces while his lady, s^tand- 
ing only a pace back, exposed to the same strokes, for 
it was in deference, not lack of courage, reflected his 
laugh — if a smile is the reflection of a laugh. 


First Sword, then Sceptre. 173 

‘^By force queried he in the bitterest gibing tone. 

‘‘By all means !” returned Raho. 

‘‘Good sooth! what means have you?’^ 

“My lord/’ said Fra Benito, at last disclosing himself, 
as here the others failed to maintain the initiative ; “King 
Phillip, on hearing that you had escaped the just penalty 
for your continual plotting and high treason, and be- 
lieving that you might also elude the fate Heaven sent 
others than you, ordered Admiral Ozario to take up the 
search for your body — living or dead 1 On finding that 
your ship had been pounded to atoms, but that you had 
been snatched from the calamity ” 

“I guess ! one or the other of you, to make terms for 
the double duplicity — sent word where you had an ap- 
pointment with your lord! using my own letters! Out 
on ye 

“Exactly!” returned Roha, unabashed. “The cruisers 
have therefore been sent along this coast, even to this 
paltry den of fish-fags and wreckers, to cut off your 
flight by water !” 

“While,” continued the second noble traitor, “the 
Captain-general sends a force overland to prevent a flight 
through the country.” 

The position looked hopeless; and the duchess herself 
lost <her florid hue. On the other hand, fired by this first 
opportunity which the Chained Tiger of Philip IV. had 
enjoyed to show his mettle, her lord glowed with long- 
penned up rage. In a voice of thunder again he re- 
joiced : 

“Sa, ha! sirs! your treachery is manifest at last! 
Under a mask of fidelity, you have been fawning upon 
me these years !” 

“My lord!” and they audaciously clapped their hands 
to their swords. 

As for the ex-captain turned monk, he fumbled for his 
beads, no doubt to pray for a heavenly interposition in 
this impending fight. 

“Do you draw on your highness, and not in his de- 
fence?” exclaimed the duchess, dashing down her fan, 
which, as she drew it, showed it was a sheath for a long, 
slender stiletto of Italian device — a not unique precau- 
tion when princesses, as we see, were not absolutely safe. 


174 1-irst Sword, then Sceptre. 

‘^This is a man’s affair, Luisa,” remarked Don Juan, 
with cold composure. “Sirs, before being a king, I was 
a duke ; before a duke, gentleman born ! Before bearing 
sceptre, I carry sword! My last order is: ‘Way for 
Braganzal’ or, by Him that made me, I will make a way 
through ye!” 

“It is against the king’s decree!” cried Rodrigo, 
drawing. 

“Impossible !’^ added Joa, imitating him. 

“In Heaven’s name, no useless bloodshed !” said the 
monk, fumbling with his rosary, but as a prisoner does 
with his chains when intending to club them to brain his 
warden. 

“Ah, madame, you truthfully declared that these were 
recreants and traitors!” 

The three swords were now out, and beginning to 
fence, like steel serpents seeking to dart in with a sting. 
To the amazement of all, Donna Jacinta sprang between 
the court-sword and the poniard and the two long war- 
swords. 

“Your grace, let me most respectfully say, do not use 
your unsullied sword on traitors ! For them the axe !” 

“What am I to do?” asked Braganza, who knew that 
she did not ill-advise. 

“A king would arrest them !” replied she, in the same 
undertone. 

Surprise turned to inquiry on the duke’s countenance. 

“Call your captain of the lifeguards,” the young lady 
explained. 

“Oh, have I a capt ” 

“It is beyond a doubt! and) he is beyond that door! a 
thorough one, who has testimonials from a former em- 
ployer that he has served his apprenticeship ” 

“Oh, that French musketeer!” 

“Splendid !” exclaimed the duchess. . “I would call 
him !” rewarding the prompter with a smile which prom- 
ised adequate realization. “Halloa there !” cried Don 
Juan, authoritatively raising his voice, “my Captain of 
the Lifeguards!” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE GRIP OF PORTHOS. 

At the clank of a spurred heel, steady and regular as 
a pump-beat, the two traitorous nobles, and the monk as 
well, shrank back; but the last, being the more coura- 
geous, formed the bulwark to the others. All three 
stared with consternation at the stranger, who advanced 
three paces, as if timed, brought his heels together and 
saluted Don Juan with exactness, speaking of ten or 
twelve years’ daily discipline. 

“Your orders. Majesty?” said he, fixing his eyes on 
the trio, as if in anticipation of their being the offenders. 

“As my Captain of Lifeguards, arrest those two 
worthies for revolt against their liege.” In his gesture 
he conspicuously excluded the holy brother. 

D’Artagnan’s sword was drawn, but hung by its 
sword-knot from his wrist, so as to leave his hands free. 
They had their own out, but their grasp trembled with 
awe, if not with terror. Nevertheless, he took another 
forward step, which thrust him between them, and, clap- 
ping a hand on their shoulders, where they closed like a 
vise, he said, in a clear voice, without any emotion what- 
ever : 

“By order of the King of Portugal, you are my pris- 
oners !” 

The canvas had been furled up at the doorway. There 
appeared, with naked cutlasses, the Messier^ s boat’s-crew, 
with Lieutenant Constant next the opening. On seeing 
this formidable array, in regular uniform, Dons Joa and 
Rodrigo were depressed into hopelessness, and silently 
handed their weapons to the captain. 

“Hang it all !” muttered the latter, “where is friend 
Porthos? I could wish him here to relieve me of this 
extra captive. Two birds in the hand are embarrassing!” 

Transferring the pair to the sailors, he found that he 
had not come out of the cavern any too soon. 

Rounding the headland, but fairly in the offing, so 


176 The Grip of Porthos. 

much dreaded was the coast, still studded with wreckage, 
loomed up a tolerably large vessel, the one which had 
fired the guns. It was the more ponderous in appearance 
as it was of the old type, retaining in more than name the 
forecastle and the monstrous poop. It bore the royal 
standard of Spain. Farther off, nearing gradually, was 
another of like dimensions. 

But confronting them, on D’Artagnan’s left hand, each 
wave-top seemed transformed into an embarkation of 
some sort; the heaving sea was teeming with flashing 
oar and bellying sail. Vessels innumerable thronged the 
expanse to the very horizon, where still more sails dotted 
the verge. 

'‘Peril of my soul!’' cried the startled officer, “all the 
navies have made Salinas their rendezvous!” 

The mere enumeration of their local names would fill 
pages of an archaic dictionary. 

But if dissimilar in build, size and rig, they were alike 
in their ensigns — on a white field of the universal flag, 
five black heads showed plainly. 

“The Moorish Chiefs killed by King Alfonso the De- 
liverer,” thought the Frenchman, delighted after having 
been stupefied. “That is the old Portuguese flag, not 
displayed these fifty years ! Come on ! come on !” shouted 
he, as if he could be heard a mile off ; “you cannot overdo 
it !” 

With admirable manoeuvring in so diverse a fleet, the 
larger vessels were seen to steer out free of the smaller 
ones, and take up position to form a barrier against the 
Spanish. 

The soldier criticized the operation with an unerring 
eye. 

“Surpassing fine!” ejaculated he, clapping his hands. 
“Is there a Richelieu of the ocean, then, who provides a 
million-and-a-half of floats for Don Juan, as ours did 
the same number in silver pieces ?” 

“If there is, his name is Pedro!” uttered a voice, softly, 
in his ear. 

The new royal life guardsman spun round swiftly and 
with delight — and no awe — gripped the brown hand of- 
fered him. 

“If my heart jumps like that again, it will be out of 


The Grip of Porthos. 177 

my service altogether,” observed he. “Why, my mastei, 
I thought that you had Father Neptune for your host, 
in his under-sea tavern of the Cod-on- the-Trent !” 

“And I deplored the same of you ! As you see, while 
the sea does not always give up its dead, it grants the 
living a respite. I must be one of the reprobates to be 
spewed up after sinking so deep in the swirl !” 

“I was picked up next to lifeless,” resumed the other, 
in a tremulous voice. “What are those countless sail?” 

“A few I called together ! Where the carrion is, the 
vultures gather ! We have old grudges, all of us, against 
this Spain, a ‘blasted’ whale, and we have come to cut 
her up and ‘try’ her sorely !” 

“But look there, landward !” added D’Artagnan, “those 
are soldiers 1” 

“More Spanish ! but never fret ! See, my men are 
landing, jumping out and wading up the sand. Those are 
Dutch, and they have their knives whetted for their old- 
time foe. They want to be at them the first! I have 
enough of them to spare off the decks to take San Se- 
bastian, if that was logged to do. See them swarm up 
the cliffs like rats abandoning an eaten-out grainship for 
a full one!” 

Indeed, the landed seamen rushed up the height and 
streamed out along the edge of the highland so menac- 
ingly that the Spanish bugles called a halt, and the on- 
comers mustered in a mass. 

A battle array had not been expected in this lonely 
spot. 

“Hold them in check,” said Pedro, as if he had been a 
military general all his life, to several officers who came 
for instructions. “No bloodshed, unless it is forced upon 
you. There are friends pressed into service against their 
country in those ranks. You will lose nothing in the 
long run, as I promised you. Fishes shall feed way up 
the inland rivers, and there will be a blush on Portugal 
soil as if all the vermillion of the Almaden mines painted 
it!” 

“What are they? What are they?” demanded D’Ar- 
tagnan, seeing, but unable to realize the fortuity. 

“Our Brothers of the Coast, of course, burning to 
singe the Lion's muzzle a little!” 


178 The Grip of Porthos. 

Simultaneously with this land movement, the free- 
sailors’ fleet made a hostile demonstration against the 
Spanish. Outnumbered, surprised by this overwhelming 
force, where a few fishing boats had been expected, at the 
most, the two or three sailing barges and ships turned 
smartly and made good speed toward the point whence 
they came. 

All at once, while D’Artagnan was still clenching his 
restored shipmate’s hand, they heard commotion inside 
the Petrel — a woman’s scream, a man’s guttural outcry, 
and then a terrifying silence. 

“ ’Sdeath ! What is going on there, when all seemed 
smooth?” inquired the French knight. “In your inn, 
comrade, we have the Duke and Duchess of Braganza. 
We must have no mishap to one whom we are going to 
seat on the Portuguese throne.” 

“I thought he was your man,” returned Pedro, coolly. 

The two hastened up to the cave mouth. 

The expeditious manner in which, upon Donna Ja- 
cinto’s hint, the Duke of Braganza had been served by 
his Captain of Guards lifted him into the serene heavens. 
But he had to return to the earth at a touch on his arm. 
It was the duchess, who indicated that they were not left 
alone by the removal of only two of the false messen- 
gers. 

Don Juan looked coldly at the statuesque monk. 

“What are you waiting for? to be arrested in your 
turn ?” 

The monk shrugged his shoulders, as if defying the 
lash. 

“Pah ! your robe saves you ! Go, and lie no more !” 

“His robe need not save him !” broke in the duchess, 
having taken a dislike to this person. “We may not 
have to look far to find one who would use his cord upon 
his back more honestly than, I guess, he ever corrected 
himself !” 

“You may go,” repeated the prince, with bitter scorn, 
somehow sharing his wife’s disgust. 

“But,” spoke the brother of St. Dominic, “before you 
go on the way to rive Portugal from Spain, let me know 
for those whom it most concerns how you intend to deal 
with Mother Church. As you had those gentlemen re- 


The Grip of Porthos. 17^ 

mioved in the king’s name, remove my doubts in tihat of 
the Pope, whose officer I am.” 

“Oh, the wind blows from the Seven Hills, eh?” mut- 
tered the duke, hesitating. “I thought all was allayed in 
that cardinal point.” 

“My lord is the Mother’s ^evout son,” interpolated the 
lady, regretting her hasty threat. “This is a political 
matter, and only the sword and the sceptre are involved. 
Do not try to puzzle the bull,” continued she, trying to 
blot out her misstep with verbiage, “by flourishing the 
surplice before his eyes, or you may be trampled un- 
awares. We go to pull down nothing — only to replace — 
to revive rights. Let the people, if they like, rectify 
their wrongs.” 

This was still half a menace; perhaps as far as the 
woman cared to go again; it was sufficient to infuriate 
the priest. He drew himself up to his full height, be- 
coming quite another and more redoubtable figure than 
the typical cringing friar. 

“My lord, I have the papal plenary absolution for 
what I do. I am the direct representative and the envoy 
of Bishop Remoro, Grand Inquisitor, and, as such, I 
must stay your departure until you pledge, by something 
too solemn to be broken, not to interfere with the work 
of the Church!” 

He held up an ornament of his rosary, probably a frag- 
ment of the True Cross. 

“Orders to me?” 

“Your repugnance to answer is a fault, your promises 
of treasure to your followers a crime, when you well 
know that all the powers have closed their coffers to you, 
as when a thief creeps up I” 

“Thief? You shall pay for that!” 

“Aspirer in vain to an earthly crown, you shall pay for 
your presumption ! Die !” 

Instead of the rosary, it was a dagger that he held as 
he darted at the duke. The latter was contemptuously 
and yet indignantly turning away to call some one to 
deal with the insolent monlf. 

The blade shone over his head, so that the duchess, 
usually strong, was petrified and turned pale. Her eyes 
shut in spite of her will. Her arms were extended, but 


i8o The Grip of Porthos. 

that was only at random, as if she were blinded and 
groping. 

Jacinta, at the door, was engrossed in contemplating 
the cordial greeting of D’Artagnan and Pedro. 

“I am a dead man !” thought the prince, with the fleet- 
ness of the mind at its point of extinction. 

Maria! have mercy 1’^ 

■ On the threshold of so much ! 

He wanted to resist, to throw out his hands — anything 
to repel this descending death — but he was paralyzed. 
Not by the fear of doom, but because he saw what seemed 
the hand of Heaven which he was praying for. Over- 
head, indeed, the canvas ceiling was rent, and a large 
hand and muscular arm, not at all aerial, darted down- 
ward. 

This immense hand closed on the monk’s head like an 
ape’s on a cocoanut. Not only was the skull crushed, 
but the neck was twisted. The dagger was released from 
the grasp and rang at the duke’s foot, but not long before 
the dying man writhed his last beside it. 

When the duchess looked, it was a dead man, and the 
duke, blanched but re-nerved, was picking up the dagger. 
It was meant to inflict a sure and agonizing death, for, 
with a subtle Florentine’s ingenuity, its blade was one 
that, after the stroke, divided in two, and, opening, must 
have made an incurable wound, to say nothing of the im- 
possibility of withdrawing it. 

“Horror!” breathed she. 

The duke examined it with more than horror. It was 
very plain ; one forging of iron, a cross, of which the long 
arm became the piercing instrument; usually, such had 
this point merely to stick in the ground for a hermit’s 
orisons ; but this cunning doubling of the blade betrayed 
its fitness for other ends. 

“The Inquisition!” exclaimed Braganza. “He spoke 
truly. But whom have I to thank for this miraculous 
interposition? Holy to me, but to how many will it be 
pronounced sacrilegious ?” 

“To whom, indeed?” said the duchess, leaning on 
Jacinta’s arm. 

The stepladder in the angle creaked, and a huge form 
sedately descended. They saw this over the top of the 



“The step-ladder in the angle creaked and a huge form sedately 
descended.” See page i8o. 



^ ‘ ^ ^ 'rjrr ’ . 


* ^ ‘ A* I 

«/v '^ . ‘ : C 

?T 


r r*' 


h 


"i 


’■^C-iS-'oV 


'M' .: • *-;f « TT ~< ■’ . ■ • " > l: - " 'i 

'- ■- ^ ►>•»*•- '■^•4’,„-^..' : ■ i 

^.■,- 't;-'*'-,’' •: • ..’' *'., -- 'St ' *'•■*'- l!? J3 

.V . r?„.- ,r- --^a 

ik^ 'TS* s?''* '' '■ ^Wi.;'*j!^<»’''-7^v-'^i“ .'S -•-sr::c'.<i "(C^ 




« • * 


j-p^ 




*3 A < '■ ir^^'4.ArwJ "" 

- w ^ . ' ''J^- ^ 

^ i Jm ‘ JL_ 

-.: '■ ..p 

Y Jv5«Wv ‘^jpv iw_% 



i .-^1 



Cl 


• . t 


<r. ..-^4 


. I 


>K 


r- 


. .<■- 


'P^ 


f - « 


*■'1 * ^ 

y * «# •. ♦ •, . , . *«• 

- ♦ "W . «• 

- ' » I >* *1 2 * - ‘/I ' *4 , ^<5 




> 


f V 


'!4r A«?' 

f . . • 


^AS 


1^^ 


lii 




The Grip of Porthes. i8i 

canvas screen, which was drawn aside, and, stooping, 
though an ordinary man could easily have passed under, 
Porthos smilingly entered the reserved compartment. 

“Have no care, my lord,” said he, mistaking the hor- 
ror as a doubt that his intervention had succeeded. “I 
warrant his neck is broken ! It is an old wrestling trick 
of the lads of the Morbinan.” 

“The Chevalier du Vallon?’^ 

“Odzookers!” went on he, “I had to do some act to 
prove I was not unworthy of being made a grandee !” 

The duchess bent over and would have taken his hand, 
but the duke grasped it. Porthos saw a tear drop, and 
he did not believe the man lost it. 

“No, thanks, my lady, or I shall be indebted to you, 
and will have to throttle the first boor who looks at your 
ladyship askew, to vent my regret at causing you a 
stir !” 

“The duke ! the duke !” was the clamor at the door. 

They rushed thither over the corpse. 

“There were Spanish vessels, but they have fled; there 
were Spanish troops, but they are in full retreat!” said 
D’Artagnan. 

Braganza stared like a clown at a market fair at the 
prodigious naval display. Never had he seen so many 
sail together; the concourse at San Andero was ridicu- 
lous beside this. What banner was this, too? Never had 
he seen, so numerously flaunting in the broad day, the 
ancient emblem of his forefathers. 

Ecstasy was tempered with perplexity. 

“What is this I see?” stammered he. 

“A fleet of honor to escort your grace to Oporto, where 
the authorities 'will have been notified that the king is 
due,” said Pedro, in a clear, deep voice. 

Braganza looked inquiringly at the musketeer. 

“This is Captain Pedro, commanding the Brothers of 
the Coast, and the sail you behold are but a portion of 
the forces he has at his whistle-call.” 

“All at your service to free Portugal,” went on the 
free-sailor. “They of the long and African voyages will 
meet us at Oporto or Lisbon, later.” 

“You mistake, chevalier,” said the enraptured prince. 
“This is not a captain of rovers, without a flag, but my 


1 82 The Grip of Porthos. 

Ackniral of the Fleet! It is not plain Pedro, but Don 
Pedro, and Knight of the Red Cross of San Jago!’' 

Pedro bowed; he turned red; recovering, he blew his 
silver whistle peculiarly. This call was repeated among 
the landed seamen and from boat to boat of the fleet, A 
weighty silence fell. 

“Brothers,” said he, lifting his voice, “hail the King of 
Portugal I Hail, Juan IV. !” 

“Long live the King of Portugal I” was the stunning 
acclamation. 

A thousand pieces of ordnance rang out — each vessel 
was enveloped in a white plume, following the fiery ray. 

Juan de Braganza never had a finer moment in his life. 
The enthusiasm irradiated him. He waved his sword, 
and cried : 

“Officers, gentlemen, brothers, friends, to Oporto!” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE ROYAL PROCLAMATION. 

A cynic asserts that the “City of Ulysses/’ that is, 
Lisbon, requires an earthquake to animate its inhabitants. 
Another critic says that they are so indolent that they 
hire peasants to do their work and gipsies to “amuse 
themselves” for them. 

Be this as it may, in the year 1640, at its opening, 
this beautifully-located capital was furnished with over- 
much excitement. 

That forerunner of “the Forty Thieves,” who goes 
before 'the band of War, Pestilence, Sack-and-Pillage to 
chalk in red on the doors, seemed to have set his awful 
mark on nearly every house on the rambling streets, even 
far out into the suburbs, outside the walls. 

Stores and shops were sealed up, particularly in the 
goldsmiths’ street, so that the usual gaudy display in the 
unglazed show windows was eclipsed. Still the general 
effect was not sober or dull, since nothing covered the 
fronts, frescoed and stuccoed, the Moorish-tiled arch- 
ways and the Dutch-tiled roofs. After taking in cur- 
tains and tapestry, commonly airing out of the casements, 
no one thought of taking in Nature’s garlands and 
rosettes ; the hanging-gardens, for which the chief city 
of Portugal is noted, offered their rare attractions in end- 
less loops of wisteria, white and purple oleanders, holly- 
hoicks, pepper-plants, grown for 'their hue, and camiellias 
perfect trees. 

Ever since the Pretender landed at Oporto without oj>- 
position to mention, so that the cry of “We are be- 
trayed !” resounded and echoed even to Madrid, the 
wealthy and timorous classes had been transporting their 
portable valuables, after the Turkish manner, in coffers 
and trunks, all ready, into the country, much going into 
Spain, where the owners, if of the official kind, belonged. 
Those remaining after this exodus had either too much 
property or too little to lose. They hoped that their sig- 


184 The Royal Proclamation, 

nificance or their insignificance would similarly make 
friends with the invaders. After all, with a change of 
crown comes no change in the taxes ; the citzens have 
to pay the bugler in war, as the piper in peace. 

But curiosity brought many out into the streets, spite 
of the dull housefronts, and, the day being fine for the 
first month, the ways became as crowded as on a feast 
day. 

Most of the faces were wrinkled and down-drawn. It 
was easily to be seen that body and purse were at stake, 
the anvil and hammer between which the poor soul very 
often comes out flat. 

The Church of Carmel (disappeared in the 1754 earth- 
quake) then occupied a space, with its plaza, denoting its 
importance. In early times it had been an earthen fort, 
where citizens stood a siege of the Spaniards. Many 
glanced now at its massive stone walls with calculations 
how they might jump up to the windows and enter by 
them in spite of having to obliterate the stained-^glass 
saints. The substantial doors were not to be forced with- 
out a battering-ram, and the small door in the large one 
was fastened within. For once, the Psalm, “The Lord 
is my strong castle,^' was interpreted literally by the 
quaking priests within, who had retired to the belfry to 
watch for the coming of the enemy. 

The publicans, knowing that a wine vault is a sore 
temptation to the soldiers who capture a town, had sold 
all they could and shut up their cellars ; all these places 
were barricaded within. It was not the warm season, 
but the dust made the promenaders thirsty, and many an 
eye looked disappointedly at the signs dangling tantaliz- 
ingly overhead, for these signs bore tokens, such as 
Silenus on his ass, Bacchus with a ponderous bunch of 
grapes, nymphs at fountains, and the like, poignant in 
mockery. 

To respond to the demand for refreshment, those vol- 
unteer viviandieres, whose irrepressible spirit causes 
them to set up stalls with dubious drinks and as mys- 
terious eatables wherever there is a popular gathering, 
as on the edge of battlefields, the brink of craters, the 
margin of overflowed rivers, and the verge of a bumt-out 
city, they abounded. 


The Royal Proclamation. 185 

They were supplemented, on this occasion, by swarthy 
men and women, taking up the trade at once as their 
own occupations were suspended. These, who had a sea- 
faring and waterside look, carried casks; if small, on 
fthe shoulder or hip, or, if large, between two of them. 
They set them up at corners and in nooks, sure that the 
watch would not interfere with them. 

The only remarkable thing about their goods was the 
singular effect they had upon those customers who wore 
the varied uniform of the garrison of the towers and the 
citadel. 

These soldiers were specially welcome, the women not 
scrupling to beckon and to call in the patois of their 
provinces. When they drank, there was a first cup 
thrown in because of “the fellow-countrymanship.” 
When the soldier received his change, although he had 
tendered the smallest coin current, he would look at it 
with the air of the beggar who has a gold piece fall 
where he expected a farthing. Then, falling into abstrac- 
tion, like an ecstatic, he would so blunder that, instead of 
proceeding to quarters, he would stray toward the walls. 
At the first breach or practicable spot to scale he would 
mount and cross and jump down on the farther side. 
Then, still under the odd influence of this cheap but 
magical vintage, he marched off farther and farther from 
the city. In keeping this course, he could not fail to 
arrive at the hostile lines. 

In this way, it was a simple calculation to figure how 
long or brief a period must pass to place the whole gar- 
rison in the command of Don Juan. 

But, while there were slaves of thirst, the greater de- 
mand was for news. 

Decided events were grave. The rumors were por- 
tentous, but they clashed. Every now and then a group 
would form around a person bursting with his intelli- 
gence — as likely invented for a purpose as for no gain 
whatever. All centered on the fact that the Duke of 
Braganza, long suspected of wishing to kick over the 
platter held out to him' by King Philip, had thrown off 
all dissimulation, and launched himself as a thunderbolt 
at his sovereign’s head. One thunderbolt is more or less 


1 86 The Royal Proclamation. 

to be dreaded, but when it is accompanied by a whole 
flight of meteors, one puts his cloak over his head. 

“The duke has run the gantlet of the Spanish fleet and 
landed at Oporto. It surrendered to him as if awaiting 
him for weeks. He is fortifying there to stand a siege. 
The Other way he defies the fleet, as he is assisted by the 
most enormous gathering of Barbary corsairs, Mediter- 
ranean fishers, Norman wreckers and Catalonian smug- 
glers ever leagued!” said one pair of leather lungs. 

“This is a partisan of the Independent Portugal,” com- 
mented the conservatives. 

“Don Fernando de Contreras, Governor of Castile, has 
refused, politely, but he has refused, to call out the re- 
serves to let the Madrid garrison come to the rescue of 
that here. And the Master of the Royal Arsenal has re- 
fused the wall-pieces. So, the royalist cause looks 
glum!” said another vociferator. 

“A Phiilipist spy V* commented the liberals. 

Public gazettes had been known almost fifty years in 
Italy, and in France about ten ; but Lisbon boasted noth- 
ing of the sort. 

The nearest approach to newspapers were broadsides, 
having the blank available for a correspondent to write 
his views, or illustrate the reverse. These were brief, 
eked out with portraits and scenes of the incidents chron- 
icled. Unfortunately, as the engraving was executed 
with the draw-knife and wood-carver’s gouge, the like- 
ness lacked that beauty of work which often redeems a 
poor design. Men with a memory, after inducing a 
neighbor to buy these “Novelties of the Day,” pointed 
out that the pictures had seen service in previous sheets, 
then labeled, “Victims of the Auto-da-fe at Salamanca,” 
“Heroes of the Spanishr Netherlandish War,” and “Cap- 
ture of Cities During the Long War.” The interspersing 
of these hoary cuts with the so-called pronunciamento 
of the Pretender on invading Spain and Portugal, and 
the reply-pronunciamento of King Philip, offering a re- 
ward for his rival’s head, did not enhance the value. 

At times, a military officer, a public functionary, or a 
priest was mobbed for tidings. Their replies were 'fluent, 
but not reconciliable. 

“The cloud enwrapping the Country of Camoens is 


The Royal Proclamation. 187 

about to break — whether for sunshine or storm, the fu- 
ture will disclose!’’ “Never was the political horizon 
more clear I Spain and Portugal are at peace with each 
other and all the world, including our Colonies 1 ” “That 
mushroom, the Prince of Braggadocia, abandoned by his 
clique of tatterdemalians, was forced out of France, and 
is in full flight into Piedmont!” “Our beloved Don 
Juan has 15,000 armed men at Oporto. Five Ships from 
England bring him several regiments of horse and foot !” 
“El Rey is scattering silver on all sides. The Jews are 
pressing money upon him, in revenge against their per- 
secutors. Look out for reprisals when they come into 
Lisbon !” 

Through this tumult, the masses swaying diversely, a 
man moved with the easy strength and suppleness of one 
who had mingled with greater multitudes in his career. 

He had ridden up to the gates, but the guard, whose 
officer was pretematurally civil, on account of his isolated 
post being surrounded by a crowd of no pleasant looks, 
had assured him that all horses were taken over for his 
Majesty’s cavalry. He would give him an order, how- 
ever, on the Master of the Mint, who was also Royal 
Treasurer, for the amount settled by himself on the steed. 
The cavalier, accustomed to discipline, acquiesced, and, 
with his warrant in his pocket and a roll from the crup- 
per slung on his back, as an officer suspends his cloak, 
walked through. 

He progressed nicely, as, like fire and water, an old 
soldier makes his way. 

Ait times, when it was civil to speak — for here even 
the gruff by nature practice courtesy — ^he would speak 
blandly, though briefly, in that old Cantabrian tongue 
which most of the people comprehended, just as one 
could pass fairly with Elizabethan English in rural 
England. 

“Way, please! Aside, man!” And his hand, open, but 
the fingers itouching, like a hatchet, cleft, and his some- 
what sharp shoulder advanced, and his knee, hardened 
by riding between other cavaliers, drove on like a man- 
gonel-ball ; he obtained his desire. 

Still the conflicting chatter did not pacify or enlighten 


1 88 The Royal Proclamation. 

him. But he listened to it like an officer on the retired 
list, who relishes gossip. 

interjected he, finally, *‘now we shall have 
something official — I will not say trustworthy,’’ he sub- 
joined, like one who had lost many illusions of youth. 

Two trumpets preceded a herald or town-crier, in a 
surcoat emblazoned with arms of the kingdom and the 
city. They were all on the way to a wooden block, for 
mounting a horse in ordinary times, for attaching a thief 
for whipping, or for the neighboring butcher to flay a 
cnlf upon. 

The crier stood upon it as a stage. 

The trumpets flourished which thickened the crowd. 

“Hear ye all! this is the Bill of the Archbishop of 
Lisbon, appointed Ruler by the King of Spain : All good 
citizens are to deposit at the Royal Mint their jewels and 
plate, to be melted and applied to the defence of the 
Realm I Nota Bene : The Master of the Mint will give 
receipts as Treasurer. Secundos. Excepted from this 
order are the heirlooms of the nobles, the articles in 
wear of the notables, and the property of the Church.” 

The cheering for “I, the King,” the tail of the procla- 
mation, was feeble, and the trumpet fanfare, rising nois- 
ily, died in a tremor, like a novice in singing, whose 
voice went diminuendo in spite of himself. 

It was the matter, not the singer, which was demurred 
at. 

“I wonder,” said the officer, in the silence, “would the 
receipt for my sword defend me if the rebels came over 
the wall ?” 

“Humph !” exclaimed a townsman, encouraged by this 
sarcastic trope, “Catch me turning over the fruit of my 
exertions to any mint before I am coaxed over — by main 
force ! That would make me out to be a very poor wit- 
ling, and of very limited faculties !” 

But this spark of disorder was not fanned by any other 
breath, and the gathering, shocked, fell away to collect in 
another place. 

Apparently disgusted by this placidity, the military 
officer went up to the church wall, and, setting his back 
against it, reviewed the passengers. 

“A scrubby pack, these townfolk !” grumbled he. 


The Royal Proclamation. 189 

‘‘The peasants are hardy, honest and laborious. It was 
they who made the rank and file and the crews which 
possessed half the world of the East for Portugal. But 
that was a hundred years ago. The gentry are more 
cabal-heroes than caballeroes, plotting and counter-plot- 
ting, but doing nothing — waiting for to-morrow. When 
it knocks down the 'sun-eggs,' as they prettily call apri- 
cots, they will be agile in the scramble. As for these 
cits., slow at a coming, fickle at a stand, a score of my 
friend Pedro's tars would make the whole city turn itself 
inside out. I shall have to advise my other friend, Don 
Juan, to advance — not to wait for a rising here. He 
should be the ferment to cause the wished-for rising, 
and may be crowned King here in three days !" 

Then, studying the action of the wine being dispensed 
by the perambulating dispensers, he frowned, puzzled it 
out, and muttered, amusedly : 

“Why, these are Pedro's fellows at work ! Look at the 
soldiers made tipsy and given the traveling money under 
guise of change to desert! Whew! Soleiman's cash is 
melting away like snow on the mountain when the dry 
gorse catches fire, and the defenders of Lisbon are melt- 
ing therewith!" 

He was interrupted in his soliloquy unspoken as all 
sensible persons soliloquize — 'by a member of the crowd, 
on its far edge, in an angle of the great blocks of stone at 
the portico, violently gesticulating. This was nothing in 
itself, 'where the people overflowed in pantomime. But 
on catching the eye he could but conclude that 'he was 
the object of the beckoning. She — for it was a woman — 
seemed offering all she paraded before the public of her 
wares to M. D’Artagnan. For the reader will have al- 
ready guessed 'Who was the stirrer up of dissension 
among the apathetic Lisbonese. 

The captain left his side and proceeded deviously, as 
the strayers were dense, to the point. 

On a post to which church notices were affixed was 
hung a well-known object; it was the signboard of the 
Kueil. 

“The Black Petrel!" exclaimed the Frenchman with 
some pleasure; “my little inn! I am haunted by this 
bird." 


190 The Royal Proclamation. 

He recalled t!he figure of the seller under this memento, 
although it was bedecked barbarously with finery, tinsel, 
jewelry, in even a less chaste taste than the Portuguese. 
But, if the figure were not recognizable, there was no 
forgetting the visage of Quaqua. 

“The cook ! Pedro has sent on his establishment with 
a good'ly crew into Lisbon to prepare to feast for his com- 
ing. Ah, now there will be a good fire !” 

Quaqua had put a board at the end of the church 
pediment at right angles, so that she enclosed a square ' 
space between board, the cornerstone, and the church ; 
side. In this compartment ishe put two Moorish stools. 

On the 'board was a broached keg; under it empty or 
full ones. Several drinking vessels, noted for variety, 
shone on the plank. Room 'was left for a heap of small 
coin, diverse as one -would reckon on in this port. It 
was a bait, (since money attracts money, and if she had no 
faith in the honesty of the bystanders, she had reliance 
on her own hand, (while two or three sailors lounged 
about, attentive to her nod and sign. 

“Sit^and try my wine, master,” said she to the muske- 
teer. “I do not like to see a gentleman jostled by .these 
scarecrows.” 

She meant scared crows. 

As this was .still a good post for observation, and D’Ar- 
tagnan was not sorry to be among friends, he ac- 
knowledged the civility with a smile and applauded 
silently the protection at back and flank. All this in 
dumb show, for that “caution kept the castle” seemed the 
guiding rule among these seamen, masquerading as fish- 
ermen and venders of popular beverages. 

At the first sip of the 'wine offered him he broke the 
silence. 

“Marvelous !” smacking his lips. “It is a muscadine 
of which I have not tasted .the like since we warred un- 
der the Alps. How do you come by Bergamasco here ?” 

“The cask was floating — and the lads gaffed it and 
drew it ashore,” she returned, laughing. 

Seeing an officer drinking with relish, several passers 
returned and kept Quaqua busy supplying them. 

A tradesman coming out of a closed and shuttered 


The Royal Proclamation. 191 

'house, with ta bundle in his arms, was stopped by one of 
these bi'bbers. 

“You look hot and breathed, Marco,” said he. “Where 
are you off to, with your valuables? Into the country, 
I make bold, like the most of your fellows ?” 

“What, Tomas ! I steal off to the country !” He took 
the cup tendered him-. “Do you not know what order 
has gone out from 'the king’s deputy ? The royal procla- 
mation ” 

“Define! There have been so many proclamations 
lately.” 

“The one requiring al’l loyal subjects and faithful citi- 
zens 'to leave their plate and trinkets at the mint ” 

“For the mint master to eat off the one and deck bis 
wife in the other?” 

“You jester! To be coined to pay the brave warriors 
who defend our houses and bodies ! That malicious 
turnspit of a Braganza — he has kicked over the roast and 
the fat is frizzing! We shall all get burnt!” 

“The fat may be all in the fire, but I am not a tallow 
Candler, and I see no good reason w'hy our gold and 
silver should be dumped there, too !” This Marco was a 
prosaic, selfish being, who had, after D’Artagnan’s cue, 
protested his disagreement with the royal request. “If 
you are going to trust the king of to-day with what the 
king o'f to-morrow may demand of you, you are a greater 
ass than I have thoug'ht you these fifteen years !” 

“You anger me, Tomas! What do you mean?” But 
his anger did not stay him from presenting the negress 
with the pay for two other cups in return for his friend’s 
offering. Ought not a good citizen and a taxpayer, who 
pays at the first call, set a fine example of a good 
patriot ?” 

“A fine example of a hare-brain!” 

“Are you not going to carry your precious metal to the 
king’s mint?” 

“Not my precious brass fire-irons, even ! Not until all 
in our street have emptied their strong boxes, and 
then^ ” 

“Then?” 

“I should reflect.” 


192 The Royal Proclamation. 

'‘You are a miser, and Satan chooses the miser's chest 
for his bed.” 

“Is that so? Then I hope so to fill it that he will be 
unable to squeeze in !” 

“All the neig-bbors told me they were going.” 

“Where? To Satan’s bed?” 

“To the mint, noodle!” 

“The hour hand waits for the minute hand to thick 
sixty before it strikes.” 

“If I were to imitate you in dawdling, Tomas, I should 
be at the end of the tail, like the tuft on the cow’s, and 
ah would have obliged the king before me.” 

“The tail ? The mint will have no end of a tail — ^like 
the little pig called the cavy, ouit in Guinea! His majesty 
will get as much Guinea gold out of us as out of so many 
cavies ! on the faith of a draper, whose far-famed sign is 
the Cdlchian Ram !” 

“ ’Mas, you have a poor spirit, for a true Lisbonite ! 
after fifteen years having the honor to dwell in this city 
of the Leal ! I tell you, shortcoming fellow-townsman, 
that our friends will carry all their meltable valuables to 
the mint.” 

“Suppose they do not ?” broke in a third party, who had 
stopped to taste the Quaqua wine. 

“Why, they will be compelled, neighbor Quintino.” 

“If the compeller prove sufficiently strong !” replied the 
new, wrangler to the man with the parcel. 

“Why, who is stronger than the King of Spain? Not 
'this new-fledged King of Portugal !” 

“Well, the King of Portugal may not be as strong as 
the King of Spain,” returned the fresh logician, to the 
entertainment of D’Artagnan, “but the King of Spain is 
less strong than him of Portugal and all Portugal to- 
gether !” 

“By Bacchus !” hiccoughed a fourth shopkeeper, w^ho 
had been drinking silently while listening to the debate, 
and w*ho had come in for the dregs of the wine ; “there 
is one thing stronger than the Kings of Spain and Por- 
tugal — that is this juice! It has cut my mouth from ear 
to ear ; but fill me up again, worthy priestess of the bot- 
tle, thou Ariadne, who art comely, though coal black! 
I could wish my gullet were long as Segovia aqueduct, 


The Royal Proclamation. 193 

to thoroughly enjoy iit three thousand paces, though ! It 
is strong!” 

“But,” added still another toper, clacking his tongue, 
“hut it is sweet, like Samson’s Lion’s Beehive in the 
mouth, for which see my sign, under which I vend the 
cheapest honey ” 

These praises increased the customers tenfold. Quaqua 
disappeared behind the hedge and the heap of pence. 

“Then we may consider that you are convinced and 
are going back home with >the budget, eh, Marco?” said 
the incorrigible Tomas. 

“Not a step, disloyal one I” 

“Well, I am going to the mint,” said another. 

“There, you see 1” cried 'Marco, triumphantly. 

“What for ? To take your ” 

“To take back my goods for the receipt ” 

“How, Annibal, did you give in your jewels, ninny?” 

“Not so ; but I induced my wife and her mother to be 
patriotic and loyal — it is inscribed in my name, so that 
the king <will be grateful to me if ” 

“Goose ! if they will not hand them back, though you 
presented a hundred receipts, what will you do?” said 
the human interrogation point. 

“I will summons the master of the mint before the 
alcalde.” 

“And if the alcalde hangs fire?” 

“Oh, you be hanged !” returned the man, exhausted of 
patience. 

“And if I am hanged, what comes then?” 

“The crows ! They would have soft pickings I” 

With that they left the man with the pack, inde- 
cisive. 

“How come you into Lisbon alone ?” asked the muske- 
teer. “I found the roads none too safe — and you are a 
woman and carrying spirits.” 

“I was never alone. There was a caravan of us. Only 
we entered the town by all the gates, each alone, not to 
draw suspicion.” 

“Your entrance was well-contrived, I dare say!” 

“We had no need to draw knives ” 

“No, only to draw wine !” 

“Yes; the Lisbonese being timid, they shut up their 


194 The Royal Proclamation. 

shops; when a crowd kicks up the dust, a dealer in re- 
freshment profits.” 

‘‘I see that the Petrel never forgets her inn business, if 
she does presage a storm ! Did you see ” 

“I know you mean your gentleman companion. Well, 
he was on the road with us, but, being mounted, advanced 
us. I knew how eager he was to join you, for he kept 
asking about you and his pace all along the road.” 

“Porthos! on horse, of course, he will distance you. 
Then he should be here ?” 

“Without his horse, though, for they take all horses 
over to the king’s service at the gates.” 

“And Porthos would resist, for he is a cavalier who 
loves his steeds.” 

“Sehor Porthos would not resist giving up his mount, 
sir !” 

“No, for it was the one you left at the Petrel.” 

“The Clamponnier ! Ho, ho !” and he laughed as no 
one in that distressed assemblage thought of doing. “Oh, 
I wish the gatewards well out of their task of conveying 
the Clamponnier to the mint ! But, Porthos — a stranger 
in this ragged rout! He lost! Hang the Crown De- 
batable on a mast for the first climber to get it down ! I 
would none of it! Why, nor, Porthos — no sun! The 
world would be one vast grave !” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A WAIVE. 

Quaqua was right as t?o Porthos passing into Lisbon 
shortly before her own entry. 

On seeing the puissant Lord of the Vallon ride up, the 
guard presented arms to him, concluding that he was a 
rural potentate preceding his tenants to be offered on the 
altar of the kingdom. They expected some opposition on 
the part of so magnificent a sire to giving up his charger, 
according to the prescrite, but, on the contrary, he re- 
signed possession of the famous “Plegon’’ without much 
concern for the receipt. 

He swaggered throug'h the archway and plunged into 
the maze. 

At first the animation engrossed his attention, but the 
sense of being a foreigner was too frequently upcoming, 
and he began to be oppressed with the dread that, Lisbon 
being a larger city than he anticipated, his meeting with 
D’Artagnan was unlikely. 

“That musketeer!” muttered he. “A needle in the 
haystack of politics is never manifested until it pierces 
the rash seeker’s hand. Fool that I was, to quit the 
company o'f that adroit negro cook, for where she is, 
good cheer presides. She is cleverer than she looks, but 
these gross people are often deceptive. Fat jowls and 
fat wits are not always companions. She must be bright, 
or Captain Pedro would never trust her with such com- 
missions. Who would believe me ? — ’he sent off five hun- 
dred of his bravest sailors under her command ! What 
a crew they are ! They will rush you to this city when 
the whistle pipes, as if it were built of cheese and they 
were rats I Now, she 'would get me in touch with my 
captain, or devil grid me! Talking of grids, this town 
without a siege is suffering from short fare, I judge! 
All the cookshops are shut, if it had them in long lines, 
as Paris does; and the taverns (for there are taverns) are 


A Waive. 


196 

scaled up as if they had been passing false coin and the 
mint master had com-e down upon them and put up the 
shutters ! Apropos of mints, -wdiat the mischief do they 
give me the equivalent for my — that is, D’Artagnan’s — 
Bucephalus in an order on the mint for ? There must be 
precious little of hard money where the high officials 
snap at the bribes the Prince buys them with through 
that wi'ly Soleiman. Everything locked up ! Here will 
be the nice fare of the mouse starver’s table !” 

The church bells rang, for it was high noon; but it 
was not an alarm — only for the Angelus, set at that hour 
by Pope Calix'tus. 

The thirsty and sharp-set Porthos did not recite the 
aves prescri'l^d while the bells reverberated. What he 
grumbled sounded more like imprecations on this churlish 
capital. 

'‘Confound a rebellion, if it makes shopkeepers squir- 
rels of our kind, sneaking nuts into their hollows and 
munching their hoards, when better creatures prowl the 
woods gnashing their teeth. Never since the first hermit 
brooded by himself have I felt such a yearning for a 
joint and a loaf, saying nothing of a flagon of sack, and 
this the country of origin for sack! Ah, if the new 
king reforms the price of canary to six sons the quart 
he will win his crown more likely than offering reforms 
of other matters, for all the topers will be on his side. 
Don’t tell me — these are topers who have not had their 
usual potations, these who are loitering, hanging the 
head, with their tongues a yard out of their mouths ! I 
know the signs of a drouth ! 

"Folderol!” snarled he, as a flock of women fluttered 
by, wrapped up to the nose like the Algerians, and 
mumbling in the woolen muzzles : “Domine, salva med r 
“A sliice of dumpling would be the best salve, you are 
right, ladies !” He sniffed like a beagle tracing a scent. 
"My senses fail me, or I smell that Bergamasco wine, of 
which I have two puncheons in Pierre fonds cellars — ^pray 
Heaven, my stout Mouston does not tap them and let 
the spigot leak when he goes to sleep between them ! 

"What are those beggars doing yonder? They must 
have a keg of something enthralling amidst them to take 


A Waive. 


197 

ithings so quietly while the hetter-to-do are making such 
a to-do, like rats in a pit ! Oh, happy the beggar who 
recks not whether Philip or Juan reigns! He is not 
afraid that either can extract gold out of his rags 

But the beggars on the Carmel Church steps were not 
regaling themselves, except intellectually — ^they, too, were 
discussing the flying news. 

A very fat cripple, intertwined with his crutch like the 
serpents of Mercury with his rod, observed complacently : 

“They say that the freebooters whom Don Juan of 
Braganza hires to help him put down the loyal have 
sworn to put to Vige simatinn all the good folk they 
capture, and they are sailing up the river even now I” 

“If that is anything like vegetarianism, which the 
anchorites practiced and King Nabucho went down on all 
fours to test,’' said another, who had the cropped top of a 
priest expelled, “I hold they are barbarians in troth. As 
long as there are sheep and goats, I preach : ‘Eat what 
will make good bone and flesh.’ ” 

“Long may you preach, then!” commented Porthos. 
“This is the land of Alfonso the Wise, D’Artagnan tells 
me.” 

“You 'dolt!” interposed another, who looked like a 
Moorish sophy who had discarded his creed but not enor- 
mous scraped horn goggles, “Vi-ges-i-mation is just to 
put every twentieth man to death !” 

“Then, judging by the bulk of that Lame Man there, 
he will count as two, and I will place myself next to him 
if he is partly nineteen !” 

Poor M. du Vallon turned away; what hope where 
beggars dined in the Barmecide kitchen? He circled 
round the church ruefully, scanning its grimed and bat- 
tered facade. In a window a sundial indicated an hour 
after noon. Two or three heretical books, fastened by 
great spikes to the walls, between stones, said to be 
brought from the Holy Land, fluttered the loosened part 
of their leaves like wings of pinned-up owls. A ragged 
rogue, with his back exquisitely pressed against one of 
those petrean wonders called “warming stones,” was 
droning a seditious song to the thrumming of an Arabian 
atabal : 


198 


A Waive. 


“Must aye we commoners be made 
A galled, a tame, a hackneyed jade. 

That all by turns may ride us? 

Till we are tired ; and, then, at last, 

We kick, and far our riders cast, 

’Cause they won’t feed or guide us?” 

“There is nothing solaceious in this !” murmured the 
French wanderer; “I looked forward to entering this 
town at the head of a storming party ! It would not be 
a supper party, to be sure ! Oh, to hear twenty thousand 
intoxicated devils shouting hoarsely: ‘Town taken! 
Sack and slay!’” He stamped his foot and the shock 
silenced the atabal. “But the cannon have a stopper of 
gold cloth ! and — zookers !” 

“Out on the choleric bawler !” cried a voice at his side 
in French, “choler is a good common soldier, but a bad 
commander! whom have we here, under a church wall, 
brought from Palestine, too, bellowing like a Papal Bull 
of Excommuni cation ! It can only be that pagan Don 
Porthos, who expects to blow walls down !” 

“D’Artagnan !” gasped the Lord of the Vallon, re- 
lieved by the sight in more than one way, although 
stupor-stricken. 

He had worked round to Quaqua’s al fresco cafe. 
“How come you here, and why sip that muscadine wine 
I smelt around the corner, instead of assaulting the Cit- 
adel, as I was bound you were bound to do?” 

'‘Tace et face!” said the musketeer, cautiously. 

“What are you saying now? I did understand your 
last address, but, you know, I am not familiar with Por- 
tuguese.” 

“Be familiar with this cup, and as for assaults, as- 
sault this sausage! What I said means: ‘Hush and 
Act !’ Now, I require you to sit down on this stool, if it 
will bear a budding grandee and his fortunes, and share 
my snack.” 

The giant musketeer tried the Moorish stool hesitat- 
ingly, but it kept on its legs after a groan or two. He 
nodded to the negress, who girinned cordially. 

“You have acquaintances everywhere!” He took up 
the cask by the ends and held it up above his head, with 
the bunghole down over his watering mouth ; but only a 


A Waive. 199 

few drops trickled out and stuck to the wood. “Con- 
fusion ! have you finished an anker of ten gallons to your 
own palate 

“I had excellent assistants ! But I am ignorant of the 
worth of the cook of t?he Petrel if sihe h!as not other re- 
sources !” 

Indeed, foreseeing that a demand would arise with the 
coming of the French colossus, Quaqua had blown a 
whistle, suspended by one of her coils of shells. Two or 
three of the loitering fishermen understood, and, without 
waiting to hear her clap her hands twice to signify with 
how many barrels they should renew her stock, dived 
into one of those caves under a shop window, let off 
to cobblers and tailor renovators. They backed out, 
dragging the one, a cask, and the other a canvas bag con- 
taining, as turned out afterwards, bread in long loaves 
and sausages of large dimensions, so old as to be blued 
like ancient cheese. 

In a short time the little table held a plain but sub- 
stantial course of food, over the demolition of which by 
the valiant Frenchman — for D’Artagnan ate and drank 
for company's sake — there would have been spectators 
ten deep but that they were more seriously occupied. 

As it was, the two chatted and feasted without regards 
from the seekers of tranquility where all was perturba- 
tion. 

‘T hope you have taken the edge off," remarked the 
Musketeer Captain, delighted as ever at the robust appe- 
tite, for the reason that he had found the quick eater a 
quick worker, “lean back against the wall, avoiding that 
carving about a sinner, who, it appears, was buried in 
the very masonry to cheat Old Nick, who would have 
had his soul were it either in or out of the church — ^and, 
narrate ! But have you grown a hump, or is it a haver- 
sack on your back, like Samson carrying off the gates ? 
Have you been plundering along the road, you veteran 
marauder? That was forbid! Wait till we carry the 
war into Spain!" 

“You are wrong," (returned his friend, blushing not 
altogether from bis drafts ; “it is a suit of new clothes !" 

“With which to be present at the coronation?" and the 


200 


A Waive. 


questioner, knowing his friend's innocenit vanity, smiled 
invitingly for more revelations. 

“It will serve ; but I got it to show Madame du Vallon, 
when I return, how the Portuguese dress." 

“All this to please the Lady of the Vallon? Then you 
will be keeping it packed up in lavender until you re- 
turn?" 

“No; clothes smoulder in disuse. I counted upon giv- 
ing it an airing after the battle that iwas to come off here ! 
I am too old a campaigner to fight in good clothes." 

The captain nodded in approval. 

“I see you agree, for, no offense ! you seem tO' have had 
the bottom of the ragman's bag!" 

“I will own it," replied the Gascon, “a threadbare 
doublet is the best breastplate against the free rovers of 
the king’s way, since all sorts are without 'fear of the 
constables and archers." 

“Are you afraid o'f your money, then? Has the new 
monarch already rewarded you for captaining his guards, 
if he has guards ?” 

“Juan is as bad a paymaster as Louis, so far! but I 
am looking forward to a finer pay.” 

“But why dress shabbily, if you have not’hing to lose?" 

“Only my skin, Friend Porthos, only that ; but I take 
it the inclosure is worth the envelope. A steed is none 
the better for its trappings. But, tell me, after you re- 
plenish your cup and dip that crust in it — ^p^haw! you 
have eaten nothing!" 

Porthos sighed, ogling the sausage, certainly a moiety 
gone. 

“d confess that, used to the saddle, a long walk de- 
stroys my appetite. That horse of yours has an extraor- 
dinary gait ; only knowing camels by reading of them, I 
judge he is an excellent imitation of that jolting quad^- 
ruped. But he was up to my weight, which is rare in 
anything I have seen here as yet." 

“Did he not kick ?" 

“He tried, but I just settled down with all my weight, 
and he checked the impulse. I wish the watch who re- 
lieved me of him and gave me an order on the Treasurer 
of the Mint for forty pistoles — it is here for you — well, 
quit of him !" 


201 


A Waive. 

'‘Keep the receipt ! you may collect some day ! I have 
the like for the creature I rode ! Those steeds will be 
useful for the deserters to get home to Madrid V 

“Oh, you think the garrison will desert ?” 

“I think that Pedro has able agents in the city. But 
tell me 

“What?” 

‘‘Where you found a tailor to make you a costume so 
quickly. I will give him my custom for a court suit and 
my captain’s coat of Portuguese Musketeers when I am 
champion at Don Juan’s coronation.” 

“Oh, I could not hnd an expeditious tailor,” said 
Porthos, in a burst of shame-faced confidence. 

“Then one of those circumnavigators who discovered 
Patagonia, land of Anak, brought home the big chief’s 
costume ” 

“No,” returned the Lord of du Vallon, humiliated at 
the idea of wearing second-hand clothes, “it was this 
way : At Braga, which is ” 

“A suburb of Oporto ” 

“A cathedral town of itself, I commanded a detach- 
ment to bring in some church bells whiohv had fallen and 
were useless from cracks, except to recast, so I proposed 
their being made into cannon for the siege of Lisbon. 
The prince said that I should go after the metal, since 
the devout would not handle church property. While 
there I hobnobbed with a man of my inches, who was 
the beadle of the church. On holidays the beadle wears 
a uniform which ” 

“Which is thinly trimmed with gold lace and scantily 
supplied with bright buttons,” said D’Artagnan. 

“Quite the other way, for you are joking. It is pro- 
fusely adorned with lace and braid,” said the other sim- 
ply. “But I did not regard the trimmings. Coat and 
undercoat, they fitted me to a charm, though they were 
brand-new and had never been tried on him. Now, this 
tall fellow was a man from Murcia, and he vowed that 
he would never officiate where the rulers were Portu- 
guese, so he gladly transferred the attire to me.” 

“I shall be delighted to see you as a cathedral porter ! 
With the gold-knobbed cane you will plainly be taken 
for a drum-major. Madame du Vallon will be enchanted 


202 


A Waive. 


with you, and your neighbors, though they come from a 
Bourbon, will be impressed. And the duke and 
duchess ” 

“And Donna Jacinta de Floriador,” added Porthos, 
“they ’’ 

“Why do you bring that young lady in to admire you 
in a new coat ?” 

“Only because one may seek the approbation of the 
friend of one’s dearest friend, may he not ?” 

“Porthos, you are a deep dog! What causes you to 
think that the sehorita deigns me a second glance?” 
twirling his mustache. “What have you remarked in her 
my way ?” 

“Nothing in her. I am no judge of woman. But 
what I see in you decides me. Ah, the crown will not 
cure the headache of our prince, or the guards-captain’s 
baldrick the heartache.” 

The musketeer stared at the speaker like a magician 
who learns that his apprentice knows the charms as well 
as he. 

“The truth is, and among friends the truth should be 
spoken, if only to prevent the tongue becoming rusty, the 
cream and crown of life is to love !” 

“You are getting on, young captain I There was a time 
when you declared you burned your heart with the first 
love.” 

The young but indurated soldier passed his hand over 
his moistened eyes ; but his voice was as steady as ever 
when he spoke again: 

“It is out I Love and a cough cannot be hid.” 

“So there was a void in the breast ?” 

“After that loss you filled it, dear, my friend !” 

“Aha!” and Porthos humorously surveyed his huge 
limbs and girth, “now I should have thought I could do 
that alone! Well, I guess rightly! you stay in this dry 
land — ^not that the wine is not good, when one gets 
it ” 

“That is not home-grown, but Montefiascone, which 
Brother Pedro fished up the Lord knows where.” 

“Well, I conclude that you stay here, not so much to 
m'ake Donna Luisa de Guzman y Gonzago a queen as to 


A Waive. 


203 

mabe Donna Jacinta de Floriador, her Abigail, queen 
over Artagnan?” 

'‘Feel right, and you will never judge wrong! Ah, 
Friend Porthos, we have seen court balls in our time; but, 
confess ; never have you seen the like of this breeder of 
pleasant pangs — one who eclipses even Anna of Austria, 
that glory of her kind!” 

“Why, the young donna is well-looking, for a Portu- 
guese,” rejoined tihe referee, with that calmness in one 
who is heart-free. 

“You are an enemyHo beauty !” cried the younger man, 
indignantly, “a foe to nature not to be thawed out by a 
glance from Donna Jacinta! To her, Diana, up above, 
is a burnt-out coal ! Look at her eyes, diamonds dyed 
jet to cast the stronger lustre! kisses dangle on her lips, 
so that the lower one pouts like an overladen fruit tree 
bough ! in silken sails, that nymph skims the ground like 
Venus from the surge skimming the waves! she is my 
general, Porthos, and where love commands, angels are 
all the army!” 

“Dream aloud like that, Louis, and she, coming along, 
will reward your mouthings as the princess did Clement 
Marot !” 

“Do' you chide me?” 

“Not I ! no herb will cure love !” 

“I want to die unhealed !” 

“Oh, sympathy will cure you — her hand will appease 
the pain. And since the lady’s tresses are interwoven 
with the Gordian knot of this imbroglio of the thrones, 
I do not fear that your weakness will make you less use- 
ful to the crown-seeker. She rises and falls with the 
royal mercury, just as the column does in that weather 
meter invented in Italy.” 

“Assuredly, she is wedded to the fortunes of her mis- 
tress ” 

“The ‘man’ of the Braganzas ” 

“So I make my court by making theirs !” 

“Better than that,” said the other seriously. If we 
fail, they will shut the duchess up in a nunnery and strike 
her husband’s head off so far that it will never find a 
crown ; but the camerista will not even have a dark cam- 
era to languish in ” 


204 A Waive. 

D’Artagnan frowned; never had his happy-go-lucky 
comrade spoken in this vein. 

“What is your meaning?” 

“Then, I bring you news? On hearing that Don Juan 
had escaped the death-trap at that launching, King Philip 
assemWed his notables, and they decided to put the duke 
out of the pale as a prince — ^any one may cut him down 
as a refugee from justice; the duchess is threatened with 
life imprisonment, and — and ” 

“Go on.” 

“Named by name as an arch-priestess of sedition, 
Donna Jacinta is declared by Church and State a 
wdive — ” 

“A waif?” 

“A waive said the pronunciamento. “Much the same 
thing. Don Pinto de Ribiera, first secretary of the duke, 
who was at Oporto to welcome his master and assure 
him that the fox Soleiman had bought off all opposition, 
he explained it to me. A waive, which poor Lady Jacinta 
has become in Spanish eyes, is a pariah, lower yet than 
the leper, the witch — oh, worse, my poor swain ! for these 
are doomed to be killed at sight like vermin in a pre- 
serve ; but a waive. Lord help us ! she is to be let live, so 
that her punishment will come in this world, if it is life 
to be spurned when, she seeks for bread, or a truss of 
straw, or a drink of water ! When freezing, the church 
disdains to warm the heretic !” 

D Artagnan listened with such indignation that he was 
about to interrupt more than once; du Vallon’s fluency 
astonished him and his warmth endeared him. 

“What cruelty !” he exclaimed, looking terrible. “Look 
you! I went into this quarrel as a soldier obeying my 
superior! Now, I will not take my hold off the lever 
until I shall have overheaved this heartless King Philip’s 
throne. On the ruins of bigot Spain I will set up my 
altar to love and insulted womankind !” 

“Not so loud ! they are turning to listen to us ! and this 
is not yet town-taken! Tassy ate fassy, as you said! 
Though, after all, where is the treason if we speak 
French?” 

“To war thus with women,” went on the musketeer; 
“savages in their snowy cloth and gold and purple ! 


A Waive. 


205 

women to whom we owe birth and nursing! alone to 
them we trust our fame and name, and if we strive, it is 
to share the honor I” 

If Porthos had surprised his comrade by his enthusi- 
asm, it was his turn to be surprised by the vehemence of 
his friend. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

TO THE RESCUE. 

‘T'hen, you are more resolved than ever to carry out 
this high project?” asked the Frenchman. 

D’Artagnan tapped his sword-hilt, as if it had in it 
the sprite famed to inhabit such receptacles of favored 
fighting men. 

“As I live and love, I would tear down twenty thrones 
to uprear Don Juan one.” 

“I am with you. But Juan is reserved. Do you think 
he is generous ? Serve a great man and you will know 
what sorrow is !” 

“The old grandfather’s story! I serve Richelieu, a 
great man, and though this heart of mine has often dan- 
gled on the tenterhooks, I can take it off to give it 
away to this witching woman, none the worse for any 
repining. Besides, what is gallantry good for when a 
woman, a great one, calls for it?” 

“Donna Luisa? yes, she is grand! But these prin- 
cesses ! There was a queen ” 

“The Queen of France ” 

“We did Anna of Austria a service or two, but she is 
a princess among ingrates !” 

“Anna has had all her troubles fended off by the Pre-— 
she has not wanted for a friend of our mettle — unfor- 
tunately for us ! Gratitude is not like friendship, which 
increases with age!” 

“Well, I judge we cancel the debt by ousting her 
brother from his seat !” 

“We pluck away his Portuguese footstool,” said D’Ar- 
tagnan, grimly. “In order that he shall come down on 
the vulgar earth with such violence that he will drink 
standing toaslts, only, for a while tO come !” 

“Very well! I would drink standing if all wine were 
as good as this ; but I regret the battlefield ; it might be 
nearer home ; so that I could run indoors for a good din- 
ner before supping in Paradise.” 


To the Rescue. 


207 

“Bah !” said the musketeer, with his philosophy, “it is 
the breakfast next morning which discomposes one ” 

“I see you prepare for the morrow ” 

“Like all the wise, and the foolish! see up at these 
windows 

“They are blinded and shuttered. I see no one, alack 1’^ 

“Depend upon it, the women are there. They are try- 
ing on the Braganza colors to look their best when Don 
Juan makes the triumphal entry!” 

“You notice the women a good deal now! To think 
of a D’Artagnan exchanging a single thraldom for a 
double strife!” 

“Speak from your experience with Madame du Val- 
lon !” retorted the captain, gayly. “Still,” surveying the 
glutted and rosy gallant with pleasure, “you do not look 
henpecked !” 

“Well, for my part, I am looking for something more 
solid than a flower of Portugal on my return from mak- 
ing a king ! When a wolf goes so far from home to steal, 
he should not hark back without a fat bird!” 

“Well, it would not do for you to take home to Mad- 
ame du Vallon a duck of your choosing! Beware, she 
may not believe you bought that gorgeous costume for 
her delight!” 

Thus, merry over Pedro's good cheer, the pair pre- 
sented a highly contrasting sight to the terror-stricken 
groups on the plaza. 

“What were your orders?” said the elder musketeer, 
stretching as if rest were the best thing. 

“ ^To take time and do the business well.' There must 
be no failure, to uselessly compromise our King.” 

“To take time is poor advice for feverish France, 
but ” 

“This is the idlers' pleasure ground; we shall not be 
surprised by the Spanish! In fact ” 

Trumpets were heard, and drum beats, as though to 
object to him. 

“There’s your rebuke !” 

“Thunder! it is the garrison sallying out of the 
citadel !” said the Gascon, rising. 

“We shall be massacred in the ruck of these goosecaps, 
unless they scuttle into their cellars !” 


208 


To the Rescue. 

“Stay ! my friend, Don Juan "has not lived so long in 
the Spanish Court to learn nothing. The garrison is 
simply vacating the fort and the gate towers 

“But I heard no sound of battle!’’ objected Porthos, 
lazily rising, and looking -down the Vintners’- Ward 
street, which commanded a view of the wall by the river 
side. “Clarions, but not a shot, not a petard I” 

“You have forgotten. We are fighting the Spaniards, 
not so much with Captain Pedro’s thousands as with 
Richelieu’s millions I” 

“Oh, you think ” 

“I know that the Lisbon garrison ought to retire, not 
before leaden bullets but with those of gold in their knap- 
sacks I” 

“But I hear marching — not very regular, but it is 
marching, and of a numerous troop!” 

“It is coming this way! I do not know what they 
are ; but I stick to my opinion : there will be no fighting 
for the fortress ; you know how it occurred at Oporto.” 

“Surely, it is a column coming,” went on Du Va;llon, 
standing up so as to look over all heads. 

“I can tell you, masters,” Quaqua said, grinning, as 
she stowed away in her apron the proceeds of her illicit 
trade, and rolled it up into a girdle which she suspended 
around her vast waist; “it is just the trainband going 
on guard-mounting as the regulars come off.” 

“She is correct, this model hostess,” cried the of- 
ficer, standing upon the stool to rise to a level with his 
friend’s head. “See, the citizens are relieving the arch- 
ers at the gates, not only of their duty, but of their parti- 
sans and arquebuses r 

“If this be their way of conquering towns, I do not see 
why men of the sword are sent to take the place of your 
only victors, these money-grubbing Soleimans,” grum- 
bled the other. 

“Oh, I daresay, we shall nick our blades yet !” amended 
the swordsman, who respected others in their lines ; “the 
sons of Cortez and Pizarro inherit brave souls and will 
do all honor dares.” 

“Do you know what they are cheering about now, you 
who seem to follow all tongues? Is it whooping over 
this purchased victory?” 


To the Rescue. 


209 

“No ; the soldiers are mingling with the crowd and ex- 
cusing their retirement on the ground that visions ap- 
peared on the battlement during the night.” 

“Visions of the paymaster with bags of coin ?” 

“No, a dread apparition.” 

“Just my fortune,” moaned Porthos, in burlesque. “I 
would I had arrived over night. Never yet have I seen a 
ghost, and a Portuguese one must be uncommon.” 

“It was a decidedly native one^ — none less than the 
spirit of an ancient king, Don Sebastian, a monarch 
when little Portugal was a nursery of memorable rul- 
ers.” 

“I never heard of the gentleman,” said the other, airily, 
as if his royal acquaintances were all reigning. 

“He was a Crusader, and went off into the Holy Land, 
where he was killed.” 

“Then I consider him an extraordinary spirit to come 
all the way across seas and Sahara to persuade a sentinel 
into yielding what it takes a quarter-million to induce a 
governor to give up.” 

“Ah, but the story goes that he was not slain in Africa, 
but came back here, to be put in durance by the King of 
Spain.” 

“This Philip seems a nice imprisoning sort of sov- 
ereign ” 

“Not this Philip, but the one of his times.” 

“But if he 'wa-s only imprisoned, why should his spirit 
leave the rest of him to promenade Libson walls?” 

“That Philip was the Second one, reigning fifty years 
ago.” 

“Oh!” said Porthos, with the air of one profoundly 
stored with demonology, “it could be his spirit, then.” 

“They knew it was.” 

“Hem I” said the doubter, “how was any to recognize 
the ghostly-returning king?” 

“Certainly, no one was a living witness, but — what do 
you say, Quaqua? for this gentleman puts more ques- 
tions to me than I can answer.” 

“The apparition bore the likeness, all a-shining, of Don 
Juan de Braganza, who resembles his ancestor, and the 
celestial light proved it was unearthly, while the arms 
of Braganza proved the identity.” 


210 


To the Rescue. 


So could Quaqua be interpreted. 

“You see,” took up the Gascon, triumphantly, “not 
only does the cardinal’s gold raise men for the cause, 
but spirits. Time will come when these grateful crea- 
tures will erect an arch to Armand Duplessis like Aure- 
lian’s ” 

“I have seen it, at Besanqon,” said Porthos, convinced 
that a great plotter was at the working-springs of this 
movement ; “but I still regret there is no fight.” 

“If you want to see fighters and not intriguers, pray go 
out of the Oporto gate and reconnoitre for the approach 
of our vanguard.” 

“Will Pedro be with them ? So you think that, though 
the advent is so peaceful, the adventure will yet turn out 
stormy ?” 

“My friend, it is a soft nut of which the flinders do not 
fly when the shell is cracked. But we want the kernel. 
Go — take time, and do your business well.” 

“As the cardinal-duke said that, count on my not dis- 
tressing myself with haste. Besides, nothing so impairs 
digestion.” 

Ponthos let out a buckle-hole or two, finisihed his cup, 
wiped his mustache and curled it with a sugary mixture. 
He turned his bundle round so that it hung like a hus- 
sar’s jacket, and sang, at odds with his sobriety, as he 
pushed aside the throng like a porpKDise among little 
fishes : 

“Here comes an old soldier with slashes and scars, 

Who never used drinking in no times of wars!” 

“It is astonishing,” soliloquized he. “I used to long for 
that honest fellow’s company — ^but now it lacks some- 
thing to round out life which men cannot supply 1 Oh I 
that fair Jacinta, most precious of precious jades: 

“The seed that Love’s hand scattered 
Sedition now has watered, 

And in Rebellion now ’twill bloom!” 

“Poor girl ! put under the most comprehensive of bans 
for clinging to her ambitious mistress ! ’Fore Heaven ! 
no prelate can stay me from being heir protector !” 

Idly he let his eyes, filled with a vision more material 
than that of Sebastian tihe Regretted, which had terri- 


To the Rescue. 21 1 

fied the nightwatches, loiter over the throng, a little less 
troubled because of the garrison’s evacuation. All at 
once they kindled. 

“Death of my life !” exclaimed he. “She would not leave 
the mistress for whom she had forfeited everything ! But 
who then is this alone over there? That figure is peer- 
less!” He sprang over the stool vacated by his guest. 
“That turn of the neck — 'spite of the peasant dress and 
that all-hiding mantle — it is she! that is Jacinta, or all 
the sex is one Jacinta!” 

In ten paces he confirmed his impression. At ^he 
same time he failed to attract the gaze which had en- 
flamed his without being in contact. This woman in 
rustic apparel was walking rapidly as the gatherings per- 
mitted, and looking over her shoulder in affright. 

“ ’Sdeath !” ejaculated the musketeer, his left hand 
carrying his rapier round to be handy for drawing, “it 
is a knave following her. Well, this Revolution moves 
so lazily that I believe I shall have time to give a lesson 
to this malapert without delaying anything.” 

At the same period, the fugitive, having quickened her 
pace on seeing her pursuer as clearly as D’Artagnan did, 
threw herself upon the latter’s arm, crying: 

“In Heaven’s name, sir! that pesterer is chasing me! 
Tell him I am your sister, cousin, kinswoman ” 

Then stopping, she recognized her protector, with a 
suppressed scream. 

“Let us say 'sweetheart,’ ” said the gallant. “Madame, 
you are under protection of my sword !” 

“Nay, you must not kill him !” cried Jacinta, quickly, 
and with a fervor he thought wasted on a ruffian, and 
could not comprehend. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

PORTHOS FARES BADLY. 

The Chevalier du Vallon, enlivened by the rest, the 
sup-and-bite, and above all by its being partaken in good 
company, started on his military observation with the 
nimbleness of a newly-oiled wheel. 

He had thought it the easiest thing for even a stranger 
to return to a starting fWDinit. But the Lisbon of the sev- 
eniteent'h century was many decades behind cities of its 
size in the more enterprising North. 

Apart from the main thoroughfare, whether called 
Royal, Grand or High, it resembled them in being a 
maze, and of short and sinuous streets, blind alleys, ways 
over which houses had been built, and open spaces which 
were depositaries for refuse, masterless dogs, haggard 
cats, and vagrants, who inditferently slept between pillars 
of palaces and sacred edifices. 

The streets went deviously between walls of monas- 
teries, which were also palaces, as at Belem or Mafra, 
with convents, mysterious habitations and storehouses. 

The absence of shops of which the signs would be some 
clew, made the side streets blanks to the wanderer. 

The unavoidable result was that, in a few minutes, the 
Frenchman was lost. He knew not which way to turn, 
having turned so often. He knew not how to extricate 
himself from the labyrinth. Usually, in a fog, one can 
listen and by the greater hubbub in a crowded way, make 
for that spot where some help might be afforded. But 
with business at a standstill, all was silence, except the 
muffled din of the thousands of foot passengers who 
might as well be traveling in the air. 

He therefore came to a stop, chafing, shifting his steps, 
like one trying the ordeal of fiery plowshares. 

Then, seeing people stream past the end of the kind of 
tunnel in which he was bewildered, he proceeded thither. 
It was a small square, encumbered with empty stalls for a 
flower market on some other day. A numiber of persons 


Porthos Fares Badly. 213 

bustled about, but they were very base-looking indeed. 
They were the dwellers in the ghetto of Lisbon, outcasts, 
seething with a dull hope that their condition might be 
changed. Or, at the worst, during the conflict expected, 
in spite of the defection of the garrison, they might plun- 
der and revenge. 

“This is the beggars’ quarter,” thought Porthos ; “var- 
lets out of collar, menials who have turned their coats, 
shij>-kennels, whose musty courtier-masters have returned 
to Madrid. If only I could espy a gentleman’s valet who 
might have crossed the mountains with his lord and 
picked up a few phrases of Christian talk ! a fine thing ! 
a gentleman of landed value of a hundred thousand a 
year, astray in a dirty suburb, for want of knowing Por- 
tuguese! a mongrel jargon with which I would not ad- 
dress my pack of hounds ! D’Artagnan might as well 
vouch for my learning Arabic off yonder titles which, he 
assures me, have the text of the Mahound Bible !” 

All was useless; the smooth walls were only pierced 
with airholes through which no curious eye glittered ; the 
windows above were grated and too high to reach, unless 
one within let down a friendly rope-ladder ; the roofs, 
in red clay, had not a cat straying on them. 

Decidedly, he was lost. 

The thought of Madame du Vallon probably prevented 
his praying for an Ariadne. But it seemed to be Theseus 
who came to his relief. 

A young gentleman appeared, more material than fop- 
pish, although he was elegant. He was bronzed; had a 
sihort ohin beard 'and black hair, cropped and chafed as 
by a helmet lining. His boots were very fine, with 
golden spurs with rowels like barbers’ basins; in his 
broad, flapping beaver were costly black and yellow 
plumes, clasped with a brooch chiseled so as to outvalue 
gold, flashing a Brazilian diamond of size. The length 
of his rapier forebade envy looking too long on this gem, 
for the wearer looked capable of defending it. 

He glided out of a small door in the thick wall around 
large gardens ; old trees towered over, and the parapet 
was spiked and liberally strewn with potsherds. 

On this site, though the alien was ignorant, King Al- 
fonso I. had defeated the Moors. If the walls and the 


214 Porthos Fares Badly. 

buildings it enclosed had been removed, Porthos could 
have seen not only the Tagus but the sea at its mouth. 

“This cavalier wears Spanish colors,” remarked Por- 
thos. “He must speak the tongue.” 

Convinced by this straightforward logic, he nipped his 
hatbrim between his finger and thumb, and, with a bow, 
accosted the Lisbonese landlord, for he had emerged from 
the door like a master. 

“Excuse me,” he began, “but I am a stranger to Lis- 
bon ” 

The gentleman seemed annoyed at being stopped, but 
as politeness should be met with the same, he halted and 
showed that he understood the Spanish used, by respond- 
ing in the same tongue: 

“You will also excuse me, sir, but I am almost a 
stranger here, too, as the Northern Wars kept me away 
from my home. There are great changes here, yet ” 

Porthos was niot in the mood to appreciate Lisibon’s 
recent embellishments, nor had he the opportunity, so 
he replied, a trifle jocularlv: 

“There is room for improvement. But, surely, your 
city wall has not been altered in your absence. My way 
to the Oporto Gate, if you please ?” 

“To the right, sir,” replied the native, testily. 

“And then?” 

“Still turn to the right.” 

“But, then?” 

“You will always do well by keeping to the right.” 

“Whereupon I shall be ” 

“There.” 

“Sir, I am delighted to meet with one so courteous 
where most of my encounters have been with boors.” 

“Sir,” returned the other, beginning to depart, with a 
bow as deep as the Frenchman’s, “I felicitate myself on 
our too brief acquaintance.” 

And, trying to make up for the lost time, the Lis- 
bonese opened his legs in wide strides and plunged into a 
cutthroat-looking alley, as if fearless. He disapj>eared. 

“A little blunt,” criticised Porthos, relieved at bottom, 
“but doubtless the young man is speeding to a love-tryst. 
In the lulls of war trumpets, the lute peals out. But I 
wish I had that beadle’s costume on my back, in another 


Porthos Fares Badly. 215 

sense. I must have appeared shabby to one spruced up 
for meeting a hella donna. They don’t dress badly in 
Lisbon after all — the feathers were superb, and that dia- 
mond in his hat must be worth three hundred piasters if a 
maravedi. Perhaps, when we are done kingmaking, I 
may wear the like, to thunderstrike Madame du Vallon 
and all Pierrefonds.” 

But, although he fully followed the instructions in 
“keeping to the right,” they did not profit him. He re- 
mained a straggler in the circuitous streets, unable to 
reach any part of the walls, although he thought they ap- 
peared in vistas. 

It began to darken in the narrow streets, particularly 
where the houses were built overhanging. 

For the hundredth time, he stopped, perplexed. 

He was fatigued by his march in riding boots, and 
almost regretted the uncomfortable haste of the Clam- 
ponnier. Here he stumbled over the dirt road, where 
broken earthenware stuck up; the channel wavered from 
the middle to either side, as if to be convenient to the 
houses. 

Moreover, his bundle became oppressive, never fitting, 
wherever he shifted it. 

To double his misadventure, the street here, behind the 
Martyrs’ Church, was deserted. In gaps, at the dips of 
the wall line, he saw phantoms flitting — citizens hurrying 
to man the ramparts, or going indoors to pass another 
night in trepidation as to what the morrow would bring 
forth. 

At last, as in desperation, the wanderer would have 
kicked in one of the doors, small, thick-set and firm, 
just to see a human face, though it might be angered, a 
man staggered along, seeming to mimic him, since he was 
burdened with a parcel. Tliere would hardly be room 
for them to pass in this narrow issue. 

“Good, a porter,” thought he; “he ought to know his 
city; may he also know a talk common to Christians as 
well. Let me see ! fthe porters are Gallegoes, and know 
Spanish better than Portuguese. In that case, I am en- 
couraged again, and I may get out upon the country to 
receive Captain Pedro and the duke before nightfall, if 
they are ever coming.” 


2I6 


Porthos Fares Badly. 

The other lumbered along. It was that conscientious 
and loyal citizen, with his household treasures, whom his 
like had derided for laying his offerings on the shrine of 
the country. 

^‘Neighbor,” commenced the Frenchman, dexterously 
steering between ‘‘sir,’^ which might seem sarcastic, and 
“fellow,’' contemptuous, to a unique guide, “I am strange 
and seeking the Oporto Gate ” 

“To the left,” said the man, only thinking of getting 
this obstacle out of the way, as his load was irritating. 

“Oh, to the left now ? I was thinking that gentleman 
was a little wrong. Well, turn and turn about ought 
to bring me out somewhere. Tell me, since you are so 
civil,” he went on, though the other danced with ire, 
“may I ask you, are you not a light porter that you strug- 
gle with that load when mules and asses abound?” 

“I am not a porter. I am a citizen transporting to the 
mint what should no't be entrusted to a second hand.” 

“Oh, the mint?” repeated Porthos, delighted that the 
conversation was easy-going, “you have sold your horse, 
then. After having disposed of the animal there, are you 
carrying its harness to boot ?” 

“It is baggage which the king will guard with his 
soldiers’ muskets better than we can with our ’prentices’ 
clubs.” 

He had put down his burden, and found the rest 
agreeable. Besides, he was a true gossip, and thought 
Porthos’ stumbling parlance to his taste. 

“Hum !” coughed Porthos, “after the way his garrison 
guard his citadel, I doubt the excellence of his ward.” 

“All is safe in the mint, because they give receipts,” 
said this profound believer in black-and-white and forms. 

“You are right — all goes well when the king gives re- 
ceipts. Yes, I have heard from a child, *Safe as the 
mint !’ Still, obliging citizen, though I am a stranger, I 
should advise your depositing your valise in your own 
chimney comer, unless, like myself, you can carry it in a 
sling.” 

“Sir, will you kindly let me go my way while you go 
yours ?” 

“I have been asking nothing better these ten minutes, 
albeit your chat is engaging ; but — ^which is my way ” 


217 


Porthos Fares Badly. 

“Oh, go to the left !” 

“To the gate ?” 

“While I go mine, to the mint ” 

“Oh, if you persist in going to the mint, have your 
way. I will go to — you are sure there is no mistake — 
by turning 

“To the left bawled the man, having passed. 

“I keep to the left, eh ! that will bring me to the gate 
of ” 

“Gate of the deuce halloaed the man, thinking he 
was well away! 

“Insolent lout!” cried Porthos. “I will chastise you 
for that !” 

As his burden was light and the man’s heavy, he must 
have easily overtaken him, but at that moment he heard 
the clash of steel. A good soldier should march to the 
sound of cannon. Porthos turned, renouncing his 
course of vengeance on the caitiff, and, feeling that 
Balizarde played easily, hurried toward the sound. 

In his excitement, and from old association, he ut- 
tered the Royial Bodyguard’s war cry : 

“If a friend, stand ! the Musketeers to the rescue !” 

Turning a comer of the wall, defended by a watch- 
tower at the angle, he uttered an exclamation of un- 
adulterated surprise. 

He had issued out upon Carmel Church Square, where 
his friend, the Musketeer Captain, was crossing swords 
with the first Lisbonite who had told him to keep to the 
right. Behind the contestants was a young woman in 
peasant attire, whom it was impossible for him, having 
well studied her, to mistake. 

“Donna Jacinta? you cannot keep lovers apart, I war- 
rant ye, though that caballero seems trying!’' 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A TAI,K OVER SWORD BLADES. 

Whatever the gentleman’s intention in quitting his 
residence under Porthos’ eyes, whether an amorous or a 
sterner one, all was changed in him on coming out by 
a short cut, into Carmel Church Plaza. For he singled 
out, by her form, carriage and distinguished manner, the 
woman in the peasant’s frock and mantle whom D’Artag- 
nan had most surely recognized as the bosom friend of 
the Duchess of Braganza. 

‘Tt is Jacinta,” muttered the Lisbonese, in as much 
surprise as anger. “She has returned to disgrace her 
family. It is her step ! her grace ! and her features as far 
as I could catch a glimpse of them. The unhappy girl ! 
for her disloyalty and active stirring up of turbulence, 
she has been shut out by Church and State ! She is the 
rowel of that spur, Braganza ! It is well her poor mother 
is no more, or this stigma would kill her ! It is well that 
our sire is no more, or he would kill her. I am heir to 
his sword, yet I cannot slay my own sister. The good 
nuns of Carmel shall take her into keeping, spite of the 
outlawry !” 

Meanwhile, Jacinta had wrapped her head in the 
rehoza, like a sultana taking tihe air at tihe Sweet Waters 
of the Bosphorus. 

“Chevalier,” whispered she to her champion, “it is of 
the highest importance that he should not know who I 
am !” 

“Rest easy! he will not learn anything through me,” 
was D’Artagnan’s reply, whose sword traced a circle for 
the inquiring gentleman to check his advance. 

The latter thereupon drew his long sword, evidently 
sharpened and pointed for war, and his conduct de- 
noted that he was a military officer, with a previous ap- 
pointment rather with Bellona than the Goddess of Love. 

“Pardon me, Sir of Lisbon, but is it the custom of the 
city to quiz strangers as you take the liberty of doing?” 


A Talk Over Sword Blades. 219 

ask your pardon, sir, but I have no regards for you. 
I am looking at the person whom I should see all the 
more plainly if you were not very much in the way !” 

“In that case, you had better change to a better point 
of view — at a distance — don’t stint yourself in the matter 
of distance !” 

Slowly retreating, as the woman on his arm suggested 
by a gentle tugging, the musketeer covered her with his 
weapon. 

The 'two at s-word’s poimt saw nothing, but she noticed 
that a door in the house front was opening warily. 

“I am exceedingly sorry,” rejoined the Portuguese, 
“but it is not in my power to fulfill your desires.” 

Executing a flourish which threw the other blade out 
of the line, the Frenchman responded: 

“How is that?” 

“Because, when a lady is concerned, I am near- 
sighted, and I never yet knew any reason why — though 
the Reasoner carries a sword — to keep my distance !” 

“For what reasons should you -scrutinize a lady?” 

“I am dying of curiosity !” 

“I have heard of persons who thought they would die 
of curiosity,” the musketeer dryly answered, “but, really, 
they died of something else! Say, an injection of cold 
iron I” 

Upon which he parried a dextrous lunge of the Span- 
ish school and eclectically returned it with a thrust in the 
Italian school, which forced the other to leap back with 
celerity or he would have had his sleeve pinned to his 
arm. 

“Like the monarch who saturated himself with 
poisons,” said the native, in the same tone of banter, “I 
may believe myself ironproof, for I have not gone un- 
scathed through your wars.” 

“Oh, to a soldier, a soldier’s frankness ! Well, brother 
of the blade, this is my kinswoman 1” said the French- 
man. 

“Eh ! are you sure ?” 

“Quite!” 

“Any nearer than by our grandmother Eve !” 

“Much nearer and dearer than any other of her daugh- 
ters ! Now, sir, that you know as much as you are en- 


220 


A Talk Over Sword Blades. 


titled to know, you must not be offended if ” chang- 

ing his accent from jesting to severity, “I bid you go 
your way!” 

“I am not offended ; and you should not be so, if I an- 
swer: I shall do nothing of the sort unless that lady’s 
way is also mine 1” 

“Offended? I, offended!” repeated D’Artagnan, 
coldly. “At a gentleman asserting his privilege ? Only, 
it is my habit — ^perchance because my tutor, my own 
father, was a gentleman of the old school — my habit, 
when I arn followed too closely, to use an expedient with 
which I have always freed myself of a burr ” 

“May I inquire, that I may use it at another time?” 

“Certainly ; only there has so far been no other time 
for the practice of the secret. I merely walk to the 
house fronts, gently thrust the person on my arm into 
the first open door ” 

The man with the parcel, who had been so uncere- 
monious with M. Porthos, had skirted the house walls. 
On arriving at a door behind the disputants on etiquette, 
whom he did not heed in his own abstraction and desire 
for privacy, he drew a key from his girdle and with it 
opened a heavy oaken panel. To his amazement, while 
he was stooping to pick up his inseparable parcel, Donna 
Jacinta, releasing her defender’s arm, glided past the 
citizen ; and, as she turned and stopped in the passage, 
blocked his entrance. 

Over his astonished face, she smiled her thanks on 
D’Artagnan, who thought those teeth were rows of 
pearls, finer than those which his Queen Anna prized 
above all princesses. 

“And,” continued he, sharply turning round after this 
fleeting glance, “barring the way she went, I say to the 
pest — a little chapfallen, no doubt : 

“ ‘Sir, if you have need of information or instruction 
upon deportment as regards ladies and their warders, dis- 
pose of me since I am ready to give either.’ ” 

“Sooth, sir, I am wistful to plunge into this well of 
knowledge !” 

“Oh, you choose the lesson! Well, stand where you 
are five seconds and the lesson will have made its mark !” 

The next instant the swords were anew intergliding 



“ He might well be vexed, for he had never met a fencer of this finesse 
and prowess.” See page 221. 





6 - . .. a , ,..„ ,- y .■.|A< ^ 









/ 


/’j?-- -V 



♦ . • r 


''t»' 

• “i-si "' 5 ^ s' . - t 

'>»ij,^ ■ I '■^ ’'-■ 

' ■- jf- n. 




♦ ' Jl‘/* rT^-"*j'_.‘ 'V 



V ' ^ . * ' - '* ' ' J ’ L'^ ' V « ' * • • i ^ jj ■ ^ 

'i: ■" - •f? •:•>'* ■ 

■» ' '■^-‘-^w. • ! ll.=Wh^MS» f- •';^ * • • . fiXBK *'■ • Uja^ M ^ i ^ OUj-* . 


^ *ni 








.*f'' 


rlK 


5^; 








y?^ 




^ r 


'V ••<►'' 


ir 


K\*^ - 


M. I . . . ^ • 




;M.- -5?» /J 
•' »Tr. ««’•■• 


’ 




iy . ■'’WKmP.. .••■ .;i 



<, . 


I - 








^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^7 *i. •, 

1-^..* *' A 4 j 1»*^ 




ss 


*.fc 


• » 


C 8 . 




-., ; -‘Slf 


> 


.'*>'• 


V jjr 



^7 


>. 




ov 


r5AC?\'SSi5?'v* ■■ :• '*;k- 

ffe' 



T ♦ 




IV ■: ?'**' :.* 








“ MJ-fZ 'T'^- ■“ 




* _ ^ - - . 1- ^ • r • 


r 









S'. ' ^ 

g-, ■> s_ 


Pi • ^ ^^'"r’-TI— -*rrgl'n*‘'”"‘*''f'~' 

*. li ‘Vi • ^' •. . T' ^ X.VWV •* 

«4^ - A ;yw ‘ ^ ^ ^ -“%»4 ' 





A Talk Over Sword Blades. 221 

with that clicketting which the wandering Frenchman 
had heard. 

But, after his immediate recognition of both the com- 
batants, and also of the witness and cause, now in the 
doorway, he still farther recognized the citizen who had 
played the cicerone so badly. He had jus't dragged his 
bundle within his portals. As the musketeer did not feel 
sufficient apprehension regarding his captain to inter- 
fere impertinently, and his gall was as much overflowing 
toward the second of his misinformants as the first, he 
directed his ire upon the last. 

“Sirrah,” said he, completely blocking all sight of 
Donna Jacinta from her pursuer, if the latter had had 
any leisure to look after another than himself, “is this the 
mint? and is yonder church door the Oporto Gate? 
Wait till I see my friend out of his encounter and we will 
nail your ears up against your doorpost, with a neat lit- 
tle scrip detailing your mode of directing visitors ! I will 
iteach you what ‘Turn to the Left’ really means, rogue !” 

And seizing him by his jerkin sleeve, he held him de- 
spite his wriggling, while coolly looking on at the fenc- 
ing bout. He showed more calmness than Jacinta. 

“He won’t be long killing him,” he remarked, as a 
connoisseur in duelling. 

“Do you think so ?” stammered she, making no secret 
of her identity with the Frenchman, so piteously that he 
started. 

“I mean, disarming him !” amended Porthos, who 
perceived that the sinner might be disciplined, but ought 
not to be slain. 

“By San Jago ! the means is ingenious to let the per- 
son escape !” said the Lisbonese, vexed. 

He might well be vexed, for he had never met a fencer 
of this finesse and prowess, whose front was impregna- 
ble. 

“I thought you would admit it. I am glad all is served 
up to your taste,” said D’Artagnan, who in extreme ac- 
tion became garrulous as a Gascon. This chatter over 
the sword blades might not be in dainty taste, but it often 
threw an antagonist off his guard. 

“But I can overtake her !” 

“She is too far !” 


222 A Talk Over Sword Blades. | 

Bang went a door, slammed. ^'j 

Wrenching himself free from the strong hand, which J 
had crushed the Dominican monk and held the citizen j 
like a fly in a web, the latter slipped out of his waistcoat, , j 
dashed fully within his doorway and fell over his parcel, jjj 
This entry caused Donna Jacinta to recede, but seized 
with panic, she grasped at the door and shoved it to with 
all her weight. It not only closed, but some kind of a 
spring bolt shot, and Porithos, returning to the charge, 
had his ear boxed by the massive boards. 

There was a cry in the street; the door closing so 
loudly had given a sound like a cannon shot. 

“The war is at our doors !” cried the citizens, and there ’ 
was a general flight. 

“By speeding,” said the Lisbonese, parrying a deadly ! 
stab, and thrusting twice in succession without touching, 
so nimbly had the other bowed himself backwards, “I 
might yet overtake ” 

“I doubt !” fencing up so closely that the hilts met and : 
the points menaced the balconies. “In my turn, I must , 
give you tihe lesson. Be honored, sir, for the ithru&t, in 
quarte, after a 'false foin, thus, was invented by his Most 
Catholic Majesty, Louis the Thirteenith of France! the 
thirteenth, mark you, so that it must be unlucky for 
somebody I he was practicing with his captain of muske- 
teers.” 

“Oh, he is going to kill him or he would not reveal 
the secret,” thought Porthos, giving up his attempts to 
break in the door and wholly engrossed in the duel. 

The Spaniard drew back and saluted. 

It was his last effort. His arm sank. He caught the 
sword in his other hand or it would have fallen. 

“I have the lesson, graven on my arm,” said he, winc- 
ing and biting his lip. 

He was losing blood, but not from the jesting vein. 

“You may think yourself blessed that it was there, and 
not in your heart,” interposed Porthos, stepping forward. 
“Let me hope you will shortly recover, that I may have 
the honor to give you another lesson out of my own 
book !” 

“Porthos, be quiet! What has this gentleman to do 
with you ?” 


A Talk Over Sword Blades. 223 

‘‘He wrongly directed me to go to the right ” 

“That is little " 

“And told me to keep to the right V 

“A figr 

“No ; I have the right to right the insult by sending 
him to the right-about at the first chance 

“Sir, I can use my left hand,” said the stranger, 
proudly, and to show he was two-handed he began bind- 
ing up the wound with his left hand. 

But D’Artagnan intervened, and finished the dressing 
with tenderness and much surgical skill. He did not for- 
get that Jacinta had urged him to be merciful toward the 
provoking stranger. 

“Really, your courtesy is not out of a common jar!” 

“Now, put your hand in your doublet where I have 
undone a lace I so, so ! There it is like in a sling. If 
possible, make no movement of the disabled arm, and hie 
you home. Give me your address and I v/ill send you a 
ieedh, if I have to knock at all the doors in the town.” 

“My own household will content me. You will find 
nothing surprising in my wish to know the gallant whom 
I encountered. I am not a stranger to any citizen, hav- 
ing town house and manor without the walls. There is 
some merit in having dealt a sword stroke to the colonel 
of the King^s Light Horse Regiment of Loyal Portu- 
guese. I am Don Jorge de Marianda, Count, and Lord 
of Floriador.” 

“Floriador! the mischief!” muttered D’Artagnan, the 
scales falling. “Her brother, by all that is red !” 

“Her brother !” echoed Porthos, too deeply astonished 
to speak above his breath. 

“Colonel Jorge, the Count of Marianda,” repeated 
D^Artagnan. “Well, is not this the most singular event 
since Orson recognized Valentine at court? It is need- 
less to say that I am the bear, while your lordship is the 
knight,” went on the Gascon with that honeyed loquac- 
ity which made him at times the bond between good fel- 
lows. 

All this to the stupor of our good Porthos, who had 
known duelists to be reconciled, but not so heartily as on 
this occasion. 

“What is singular?” faltered he. 


224 A Talk Over Sword Blades. 

'That I should meet the very person in all Portugal 
for whom I bear a kind of letter of introduction.” 

"A recommendatory letter to me?” cried the count, 
sharing Porthos’ amaze. 

“Would you have expected the like, Porthos ?” 

“Never,” said the one appealed to, not knowing which 
ear to listen with. “What the deuce and all is this fertile 
Gascon going to invent next?” 

“You see here,” continued the musketeer, bowing to 
his companion, “a gentleman of arms like myself, of 
France — 'he of the North, I of Gascony — officer of for- 
tune, I! He, man of fortune! weary of the long peace 
promised between France and your country, our brows 
are wrinkled like an old boot ! so are our purses, at least, 
mine, wrinkled with emptiness. We come to offer our 
swords to Spain to quell this little rising on her frontier.” 

“Faith of the knight, if your friend’s sword is of the 
same metal as yours, sir, the king himself might accept 
them both without any other recommendation than 
mine.” 

This new turn to the dialogue so interested him that 
he forgot his wound, beginning to sting. 

“We came with nothing but our swords, to Bilbao, 
wishing we had at least a line to pass us on to Madrid ; 
when the road was infested with malefactors, who prided 
themselves on being disbanded soldiers, but whom I sus- 
pect to be of the Brigade of Waylayers and Regiment of 
Tainted Sheep. The company of them with whom we 
fell into contact were amusing themselves with stripping 
a Jew, previous to flaying him, I daresay. This was be- 
cause he had not rewarded them for stopping him, with 
more than a roll of writings and a bag hung around his 
neck. Now, at the last inn he stopped at, from the care 
he took of the bag, the landlord, in collusion with the 
highwaymen, had judged it was full of gems. So he 
informed his friends, 'the Moonshiny Knights.’ But as 
we arrived, they had discovered that the sack contained 
merely earth.” 

“Earth?” repeated Porthos as well as the colonel, to 
both of whom this story was new. 

“Dust, absolutely worthless — ask Porthos.” 


A Talk Over Sword Blades. 225 

‘‘It was,” said the other Frenchman portentously, 
“without doubt, dust of the earth.” 

“It appears,” proceeded the musketeer, “that pious 
Jews, inasmuch as none can be sure of dying just where 
he likes, carry with them a little earth scraped up in the 
neighborhood of Jerusalem. It follows that, when they 
are dying, outlandisbly, they place this bag under the 
nape and pass away literally on the soil of Judea.” 

“I never before heard that those people vied with our 
Loyolaists in casuistry,” observed Jorge, chafing to get 
away. “Does this lead to your recommendation ?” 

“Right up to it. My friend and I remonstrated with 
the freehanded caballeros and saved the merchant’s hide. 
As he had little but his thanks, and we were above rec- 
ompense, he presented me with a skin of parchment, did 
he not, Porthos ” 

“For saving his skin he gave us a sheeepskin, to be 
sure.” 

“A parchment ” 

“It was a mortgage on a property called Floriador, 
near Lisbon ” 

“I see, my estate, pledged by my father in 1632; there 
is a dozen years for it yet to run. 

“There would be, but I conclude that I have stopped 
its running.” 

“Then this Jew who owes his life to your lordship, was 
Elizor Soleiman of Algarve ” 

“That is the name — it would be on the document, eh, 
Porthos?” 

“I never knew him under any other name,” replied the 
obliging friend, who would back up his comrade still 
farther. 

He began to understand the artifice. 

“Giving it to me, he said that the party of the first part 
would be my banker and host on presentation. Colonel 
and count, allow me to hand over the mortgage. Cancel 
it forthwith, for, in these ticklish times, one knows not 
into whose hands such papers may fall.” 

“Oancel it, and gladly! My farther pledged Floriador 
to procure means to equip a regiment of our tenants for 
the war against France. Now, I will pledge it again for 
this war against the rebel Portuguese. Never shall 


226 A Talk Over Sword Blades. 


sword of mine or pike of my peasants be borne against 
France, whose true knights I can appreciate.’^ 

He turned away, smoothing his wounded arm to lull 
the pangs. 

“Gracious! you have done a pretty thing, D’Artag- 
nan,” whispered the other musketeer, “you are arming 
him against our side.” 

“Wai't ! :t)his war dog may not snap at the cake.’’ 

“True, he may not accept us. You gave him an ugly 
stab — blood rarely cements friendship.” 

“My gentlemen,” said Don Jorge, holding the mort- 
gage with his sound hand, “you appear em'barrassed. 
Ho, I have it, you believe that your favor will be the less 
well received now than a day ago, had you met me 
then ?” 

“Frankly, I have a little doubt that way,” replied 
D’Artagnan, “on account of the post scriptiim I added to 
it ” indicating the bandaged arm. 

“You mistake a Portuguese gentleman,” said the 
count, 'proudly. “This afterpart does not alter the main 
play. Not as a codicil a will. Here, as in Madrid, in 
town or out on my own manor, I am your obliged ser- 
vant. Since you are strangers here, you and your amia- 
ble friend, allow me to exercise my rights and select your 
lodgings ” 

“The garrison have evacuated the fort; perhaps we 
shia'll have quarters in the casemates,” mutered Porthos, 
dubiously. 

“Hush! Whereabouts?” asked the captain otf the 
colonel. 

“My mansion ; that stands to reason.” 

“Never!” said the Frenchman too warmly not to be 
pretended. 

“Never, on my life !” echoed Porthos, still in a daze. 

“Hold ! do you think I am to rank lower than you in 
civility ?” 

“Oh, since it is a contest of civility now, and I owe 
you your revenge,” said the Gascon melting, with that 
gayety always animating him when he had played his 
game to the winning point, “I surrender.” 

“I surrender with my friend,” added the other. 

“Luckily, I do not live far from here,” said the count. 


A Talk Over Sword Blades. 227 

“I know. It is to the right,” said Porthos, for a won. 
der, with sarcasm. 

Don Jorge smiled, but the pain of his wound marred 
the smile. 

“Lean on my arm, dear host,’' said D’Artagnan, af- 
fectionately, “for the brother of the woman we love is not 
undear to us.” Then, to hiimself, as they walked out of 
the church square like host and guests of long standing, 
with Porthos stalking behind, wondering at his com- 
rade’s pilotage, he said: 

“I hope, if Donna Jacinta saw us now, she would think 
I was taking care of him. Her brother! Oh, these in- 
testine wars. Still, it was lucky that I went out to pick 
up Soleiman on the cliff — those rude mariners would 
have lit their fire with that excellent letter of introduc- 
tion.” 

Porthos looked moody, for hard thinking depressed 
him . 

“D’Artagnan seems to think the lady can take care of 
herself,” he mused. “Well, while I am no expert, I be- 
lieve I can find that house which sheltered her, and I 
shall, although I am not so much interested in finding 
her as that curmudgeon who bade me keep to the left. 
Who knows, as quarrels turn out in this crisscross city, 
but, after I shall have pulled his nose and trimmed his 
ears a little, he will offer me the pick of his goods. 
Lucky she, if that rogue plays the host to her as finely 
as I foresee this Count of Marianda will to us ! Oh, that 
D’Artagnan ! never should he be rich, for it is only in a 
needy captain’s wallet that one finds such schemes.” 

The count-colonel did not re-enter his dwelling by the 
private way, but by the grand one. Great gates of splen- 
did ironwork opened by a steward’s order to two stal- 
wart varlets, and others bowed their way in between 
statues to a marble portico. The building was in the 
shape of a letter L, the missing wing having been torn 
down or never completed. In the spacious gardens, 
partly as the Moors left it, were fountains and pretty 
summerhouses. One of these, for permanent living, oc- 
cupied a space by itself nearer the river. The cream- 
colored stone blocks were massive, to resist the overflow- 
ing of the Tagus and the convulsions of the earth. 


228 A Talk Over Sword Blades. 

Numerous servants, in livery which would serve as 
uniform, were marshalled in the lobby like soldiers. It 
was plain that Colonel Jorge’s establishment was as 
much military as domestic. 

These saluted the strangers as though they were every- 
day guests, guided by their master’s conduct. 

‘T see,” thought Porthos, drinking in these evidences 
of their lines having dropped into sweet waters, ‘^any- 
thing will do for an introduction, if properly pre- 
sented ” 

“True, oh sage of Pierrefonds, but,” subjoined D’Ar- 
tagnan, “but it is rare to present it winsomely on a 
sword’s point.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

^OR THE KING. 

It was a cycle when the greatest generals carried out 
the ductile doctrine that all was allowable in war. The 
same men, often knights of the boudoir, justified them- 
selves in shady transactions, before Cupid’s court, with 
the same axiom. 

The outcome was, in our heroes’ minds, that, when a 
case involved both love and war, their course was per- 
fectly warranted in becoming friends of Colonel Jorge 
and his guests under false pretences. 

Without any qualms they would sleep under his roof 
and eat at his board. It must be admitted that had the 
beds been less soft and the fare less praiseworthy, Por- 
thos for one would have felt compunction. It was war 
time, but such great establishments as Count de Mari- 
anda’s were provisioned to hold out a siege. 

Many a time, in these residential forts, a lord offered 
long resistance — ^to the rabble, frequently, the king some- 
times, but seldom to the Church, when represented by 
the Holy Inquisition. The line of independence must, in 
Spain and Portugal, be drawn somewhere. 

The dining-room in Marianda Mansion was superb. 
The musketeers, knowing of Vincennes, St. Germains, 
and the Louvre, were dashed. The conquerers had mod- 
ified the Saracenic glories without altogether spoiling 
them. Walls and ceilings were covered with openwork 
in scented woods, gilt and tinseled, and with old glass, 
set in interstices, of hues difficult for our subtlest chem- 
ists to imitate. They seemed rooms plastered with jewels. 
Here and there, squares had been cut out and panel 
paintings inserted, a happy medley of sacred subjects 
treated with simplicity, which was grotesque, and homely 
ones heightened into fantasy by artistic revelry. 

Porthos admired the table more than the surround- 
ings. D’Artagnan was as usual sobriety itself, having 
still a hard game to play. 


2)0 For the King. 

While they were making themselves at home, Don 
Juan had the same task as regarded all Portugal. He 
seemed to be “laying on his oars” at the great seaport. 
If his naval scouts had penetrated the capital, as we 
know, their presence was not published. 

Daily, the Spanish officials flocked into town, report- 
ing monotonously that the provinces were gone over to 
the Pretender, and that resistance was a farce since the 
soldiers had been bought. If the garrison had vacated 
the citadel, it was to remove any fear of the citizens that 
its cannon would be used to demolish the place in case 
of la rising. But the loyalty of the Lisbonese was not 
doubted; at least, to let the inhabitants guard their own 
walls was in witness. This liberation of the troops al- 
lowed the generals to march out and give battle to the 
revolutionists in event of their showing a menacing front. 
In the meantime, the guards of the public buildings and 
the vice-regal palace were doubled, and the monasteries 
fortified, it was said. 

With the soldiers, then, outside the wall or confined to 
the palaces used as barracks, never was the town more 
quiet, save for the everlasting babbling over the news and 
rumors. 

The two Frenchmen had had a sumptuous breakfast, 
whiich was really an early dinner — ^beef soup thickened 
with rice and vegetables, a saddle of mutton roasted be- 
fore the fire, lean but desirable game which Porthos 
could not have bettered out of his own warrens. 

“My father,” explained the count, “was high game- 
keeper to the old king.'* 

He had preferred the camp to the court and passed 
most of his years in the campaigns. 

“So, my dear Gannarta,” said the host to the muske- 
teer captain, as the steward filled the rock-crystal cups 
with a wine equal to Quaqua’s, “you come to Lisbon to 
uphold the old royalty and, like us, oppose any attempt 
to overthrow fixed order in favor of this self-constituted 
king?” 

“I am always for order, dear Knight Hospitaller, and I 
am hoping that you will furnish the chance to display my 
zeal.’* 

Porthos had on his fork a redolent teal, fed before its 


For the King. 231 

doom on fhe most fragrant wild herbs. He nodded at 
intervals of pulling it to shreds, instead of speaking. 

“Plainly, are you not better here than sleeping out on 
the church steps ? for I must acknowledge that our publi- 
cans show much anxiety about the result of the ap- 
proaching conflict by shuitting up their hostels to even 
their friends ” 

“Probably it is to arrange their wares attractively to 
the foes 

“The foes will be inside the works as prisoners, then ! 
Do you imagine, because the garrison withdrew, it was 
to fall back on the Madrid road? My dear sir, the old 
fort is untenable. The soldiers have been in all the 
strong points, in house forts of the church, nobility and 
officials here; they control the town better than cooped 
up in the citadel. Depend on it, the rebels refrain from 
intruding on hearing of this fine disposition of the forces. 
Besides, it leaves a flying column to which my command 
belongs, to harass the enemy’s advances. I suppose you 
have seen the Italian old cities?” 

“I was a prisoner ‘cantoned’ in Sienna once,” returned 
D’Artagnan, drinking avidly as if a reminiscence of the 
dungeon fare enhanced the relish. 

“Well, Sienna is typical. Our nobles’ houses also were 
constructed for a house-and-house fight. The Moors 
were not easily driven out after the army had been 
beaten. Until we had this castle painted and repaired 
there were marks of Greek fire and bullets over the walls. 
Don Juan may take the ramparts with his rustics and 
pirates, but he would be so long occupying the town that 
reinforcements from Spain would arrive to turn the 
tables.” 

“I am sorry we put you out, as the Don-Juanists seem 
to intend,” laughed the guest of honor. 

“Not at all ! I owe you so much that I feel ashamed 
at my slight return so far. You must know that this 
portion of the unshapely building — for the part to com- 
plete the plan fell down in a quake, I heard, was the 
former harem, where the emir installed his favorites. 
You are my favorites, and I bestow it on you. My 
father, a tassel in the court cap, rarely inhabited it. When 
the king became devout, and longed to see an auto-da-fe 


2)2 For the King. 

rather than a battle, sham or actual, my father was dis- 
pleased. He contemplated passing time on his estate or 
here, but Heaven disposed. He died out there, in our 
country seat of Floriador, Which you have so gallantly 
restored to me, free of liability. This house has. three 
ways out into the thoroughfares.” 

“How convenient for sallying out — to love appoint- 
ments,” said Porthos. 

“To rush upon the enemy,” corrected the other mus- 
keteer. “There is a detached house in the grounds,” 
added he, without apparent meaning, “which would do 
admirably as an outwork.” 

“Oh, that is a summerhouse. It is remote both from 
the fish market and the church plaza — which are noisy on 
certain days. It was my mother’s buen retiro — you 
know, who speak Spanish with a talent scarce in the 
French, I think. It was originally the Moorish ownePs 
sultana’s, I conjecture; such a fairylike court with a 
marble fountain and stained glass making it always sun- 
shine inside. My tutor, the chaplain, used to read me 
the Chronicles of the Cid, and Arabian fairy tales there, 
with my sister by, when we were young and were free.” 
He sighed. “She always loved the resort.” 

“We have not the honor of seeing the lady,” said 
D’Artagnan with an emotion he was vexed that he could 
not subdue. But he rubbed his hands under the table, 
like a chess-player who had decoyed his antagonist into 
a series of moves by which he would gain. 

“Yes, Donna Jacinta,” sadly continued Don Jorge. 
“She never liked the convent — she always longed to be 
at the court — her father’s taste, while 'her mother tired 
not of dissuading her from the vain glitter of that world. 
Jacinta took that pavilion to herself until, evil was the 
day, she went into the honorary service of the Duchess 
of Braganza — that intermeddler and plotter who will 
never rest until she has a queen^s coronet, or the fool’s 
cap, with which she should do penance on the horse- 
block.” 

“Pillory a lady, a duchess,” protested Porthos, with 
his mouth full, which deteriorated from his indignation. 

“Why not? A traitor has no sex,” and Jorge de Mari- 
and'a was surprised at his insensibility exciting criticism. 


For the King. 233 

‘The pillory is a mild substitute for the gibbet, which she 
and her spouse deserve/’ 

“Of course,” said D’Artagnan, nodding sagely, “a 
traitor has no sex/’ 

“I shall never forgive her for deluding my poor sister 
into her mad projects. Will you believe it, gentlemen, 
that subtle creature leads the world to suppose that my 
poor sister, fresh from the convent, originates all her 
plots and perfects them — for they have given King 
Philip and his council many a heartache. King, Court 
and Church fear her — hate her, and in their abhorrence 
have collectively executed such a decree as proclaims her 
a waive, in other words, a prescribed one, exempted from 
all claims to consideration. Shall I be lenient to Jacinta’s 

tempter and perverter? No, by my Never mind. 

Let us talk of ourselves, now that we are friends.” 

“Of the best kind,” said D’Artagnan, smiling. “Bein'" 
friends, then, I am wanting to know for whom you tool: 
that fugitive?” 

“The person I pursued?” 

“The rustic 

“Why ask me? Rustic or lady, you ought to know a/ 
about your kinswoman — a Frenchwoman, of course?” 

“King’s-woman,” said Porthos. “She is loyal, I war- 
rant.” 

“Her distinguished trait,” went on the other mus- 
keteer, “is loyalty, though she is a Frenchwoman, as you 
surmise. But she is a milliner — she has a room in the 
house where you may have seen the porter open to her 
knocking ” 

“I saw the porter,” said Porthos. 

“I did not hear the knocking, but ” 

“She is the niece of the worthy oilman, who is the 
porter.” 

“Oilman?” said the other Frenchman, into whose 
head the wine fumes had penetrated. “Tobacconist, you 
mean ! Did you not see the jar over the doorway?” 

“Certainly, I saw the jar — but with bottom pointed 
and two ears for handles — that is an oil jar all the world 
over ! from the time when the Romans overran Iberia I” 

“My dear comrade, I do not know when the Romans 
overran Siberia, but I do know that the jar was flat at 


234 For the King. 

the bottom or it would not have stood on the ledge — a 
snuff-jar !” 

“Peace, gentlemen, peace ! let us have no jars here 
laughed the host. “We will put it that the milliner took 
shelter with her uncle, who sells both oil and tobacco. 
In this case, I was in error. To be sure, the girl was 
dressed like a country kin of a town tradesman — and, 
oh ! I am a fool ! my sister would be leagues off, with 
that embroiling duchess!” 

“Ha, ha, ha ! did you take that hoyden for an illustrious 
lady, your sister?” 

And D’Artagnan’s laugh was only outdone in hearti- 
ness and volume by his brother musketeers. 

“She had the air! but my sister would never quit the 
fool-fire which will burn her at the last ! She is welded 
to that proud Gonzago !” 

“I do not suppose she would leave her — particularly 
since she has no one else to turn to, now that she is out- 
lawed !” 

“Not a soul,” sadly observed the count. “Not even 
this rocvf can be hers now.” 

“I should think not,” said the captain, broadly, “not 
with two captains of fortune under it ! Ha ! ha !” 

“I mean that I am going to draw out the servants to 
enter my regiment — I will defend the town as long as 
we can hold out. You have full range of this portion, 
with a street outlet. The domestics will obey you as the 
master !” 

“If we were prisoners, we should have the most admir- 
able jailer,” said the captain. “Oh, have you the latest 
news ?” 

“It is reported that the insurgents have united, the 
force more or less maritime out of Oporto, with the 
rural rebels. This army of rabble would be close to us. 
Vasconcellos, our governor, representing the king, is 
stubborn, and will not coincide with the military chief, 
who withdrew the garrison on his own responsibility. 
The civil lieutenant is vacillating. The townsfolk are not 
to be relied on ; citizens who will throw down the keys 
when the first siege gun is trained upon the gate. But 
we have strengthened the strongholds in the city, and it 
will cost dear to dislodge us.” 


For the King. 235 

“You think that this Don Juan would dare ” 

“Madmen will dare anything — which is why they often 
succeed. Then, his wife ever brandishes the whip. But 
we can rely on many — such as you.” 

“For the king!” said D’Artagnan, draining his glass. 

Porthos drank like a duplicate D’Artagnan. 

“As your desire is for active service, I will speak of 
you to the commander of the Horse, and have you finely 
mounted ” 

“Our steeds are at the imint, or, at least, our receipts 
for them emanated there. I would not have lost my 

charger for ” And the musketeer almost wept over 

the ungainly Clamponnier, tears of the crocodile in which 
Porthos joined. 

“You shall have the pick.” 

“Let mine be of generous dimensions,” added the 
ponderous Frenchman, “a little larger than your moun- 
tain ponies and not so much bigger than a Mecklen- 
berger.” 

“Right!” 

“I thank you a thousand times,” said the young sol- 
dier. 

“And I two thousand,” said the other, not to be out- 
done. 

The host explained the topography of the mansion. 
They could enter his part by a secret passage. 

“That way leads to the church square of the Martyrs, 
whence you can see the tower of the Carmel. You see 
you are prisoners who have ^the key of the streets.’ ” 

When he had gone, followed by the servants, Porthos 
looked with admiration at his leader. 

“My chaplain used to read me into an after-dinner 
nap with Roman history,” said he; “but never did I 
think there was reason in the adventure of Caius Marius, 
who walked in among the Volscians, his foes. But I 
realize it now, or rather you do. We have a charming 
Volscian in this host, with open doors and open arms, 
maugre your having disabled one of said arms. But 
how long are we to keep up this diversion ?” 

“Did you not hear? Don Jorge is going to clear his 
house to reinforce the Spanish. Then this place will be 
empty. Now, who will so well know how to get into that 


236 For the King. 

pavilion as the young lady who lived there? I do not 
mistake by a line that it is there she will guide her in- 
separable duchess 

“It is likely/^ 

“And the lord will follow the lady close. It is here 
that the duke vdll have his headquarters — who would 
suspect that, where the ultra-Spanish ooionel, Count do 
Marianda, dwells ?” 

“Bats, bats!” cried Porthos. 

“Are you alluding to us, or the Spanish?” 

“To our king in France, to his minister, to all their 
court ; bats not to have made you a marshal long a^.” 

“Bah ! honors are ephemeral ; the only solid thing is 
the love of a beautiful, virtuous woman!” 

“I never know when you are joking — until the joke is 
ended. Is this joke lasting?” 

“We stay here until Don Juan enters Lisbon. Then 
the farce will be a tragedy. The lion is not going to 
give up its prey without a blow of the paw and a snap of 
the jaws, believe me. In the interval let us go forth, 
since we have an open outlet.” 

“Go out?” said the bon-vivant, in terror. “Go out 
immediately upon so hearty a repast, and the dessert 
untouched? Those Arab bonne-botichees look delicious.” 

“Why, my friend, do you think I am gulled with that 
story — that our gentle Amphytrim is going out to a 
council of war and to engage his two recruits ?” 

“That noble lie!” 

“Well, we are noble, and we lie — that is, dissimulate, 
do we not ? On my side, I am going out to see if Donna 
Jacinta is safe at that oil dealer’s ” 

-Tobacco ” 

“At that shopkeeper’s,” politely returned D’Artagnan, 
with evasion ; “and if I do not make haste. Colonel Jorge 
will have outsped me.” 

“I foresee,” sighed the gigantic musketeer, “that his 
other arm will suffer, and he pours out good wine so 
gracefully, too.” 

“Do you not also see that he must not meet his sister? 
She is here to prepare the dwelling for her mistress, if not 
the prince. He is one of those antique Romans whose 
antics are detestable — he is capable of denouncing his 


For the King. 237 

sister as a spy and a leading spirit of the rebellion, so 
t'hait they may applaud his sacrifice of brothery feelings 
on the shrine of loyalty.” 

“I heard once of an executioner who struck off his 
own son’s head because it fell in the way of his duty — 
but his own sister! Come, come, come, I never heard 
oJf a man arresting his own sisiter I” 

“At all hazard, I must go and warn her.” 

“When D’Artagnan says ‘Must!’ I leave him alone. 
Now, do not you run into danger.” 

“No, I shall ‘keep to the right.’ ” 

“You must return, D’Artagnan, for I shall go mad all 
alone in this hateful city.” 

“Oh ! I will return, and no doubt in good company^ — 
a company of Pedro’s navy would not be amiss.” 

“Good fortune, dearest friend ! It is astonishing, but I 
feel like St. Jerome’s lion when the saint is not by.” 

“Faith, you are far more the lion than I the saint. A 
man who enters the enemy’s lines as a volunteer.” 

He buckled his sword up short, that it should neither 
beat his calves nor get between his knees, pulled his 
cloak round him, drew his hat down, and departed street- 
ward, with a stealthy step. 

“How wonderful!” exclaimed Porthos, insensibly re- 
turning to the table and leisurely encircling it, like a 
voyager circumnavigating a delightful isle before land- 
ing, “how much a lover looks like a footpad.” He skir- 
mished among the pastry and confections, semi-oriental 
sweetmeats. “I should be afraid to meet that rogue — I 
should give him the wall.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

HIS OWN HOST. 

The lone knight sat for a time in a drowsy state. 

'‘Shall I call the servants to remove these breakfast 
things? No, they would miss my friend, and, without 
questioning me, they might tell too much to their mas- 
ter. Why did D’Artagnan persist in going to seek his 
beloved, alone? Can he be jealous because I sounded 
the praises of this avowedly beautiful Jacinta? Absurd, 
to be jealous of a married man! a long, long married 
man! Heigho! Madame du Vallon imagines me 
camping out in the mountains, little dreaming that I 
am in a veritable palace, with an inexhaustible larder 
and surpassing cellar!” 

He took up a 'bottle, and, sad to say, for a gentleman 
of a hundred' thousand livres a year, drained it from the 
mouth. 

“Really, Portugal was not robbed of her fame in 
being called a wine-producer! She oug'ht to be fos- 
tered. I will import some of these brands and be ’mem- 
orated like those who introduce nicotina and other 
weeds ! Let but this count and colonel continue friends 
and I will exchange vines with him. But new beds and 
new acquaintances are dangerous! At any nick, our 
false play may be made palpable! Then, I must draw 
on my host, as D’Artagnan did, and recall his having 
misguided me! It is duplicity which takes the fine edge 

off honor ” and to console his fastidious conscience, 

he sang lustily: 

“Honor is like an isle with rocks about, 

No getting back when once without !” 

Hazily he reviewed the pictures on the wall, nailed 
on over the arabesques; they were Canos, and Riberas, 
with some Dutch masters; trophies, not art purchases, 
by the elder Marianda. A pink and sky-blue Guercino, 
depicted Luxury as a dancer, with provoking eyes, 
tossing locks and tempting smile; the lifelike figure 


1 

I 



“I am the long-looked-for guest of the Petrel.” See page 17 


















V- •« 








clilM ■ /* "" r>V V 

Tt > '■ 




- 5* 

'”^9| 

> ' ;., -v- 

^'i/'i - *■-!* k* 'yJ’^iM '# 4. . .M V, 



. r, 




:^i 


*- ISlUfW - f> - . ’ • < - kO 

I ■' • , n ' 


'S*» ■ • • 

?. vr ■ ...., 

1 ^; ' * ^ \ A ? ■ . - 








*V '*» 




» TV. « 






'‘f it 


F' 


i 






^#€.* 










V .<*■- 




V*. 






1 ^- 


o 4 j ?; 


mkk . 

1 i 




if* ^ ' 


\. 4 


X 


. ■«« 

'j*-'if 3- ■■" 


r* 


. 4 ^ 






[Jit 








! - V ".w .. -' ■ ^ - . t. fa* ^ ^ 


“_ • 


34* ► **- Ci- • •• .'^ r ^V- 

V.*?% •JJ'- .f* tJm ' i y 

i* • ■ -' ‘ • 4 *■ j ^ 1 1«" ' ^ * V- •X 

j^. 'cjk^' .*'‘ri5aitt* - . 




s*>‘ 








*» 


Ui: 




^nP. 


• %* 








.)» ^ - 

-Ir \ '‘^-.4' V V , - *- 


>11.^. 


ft 


V 




:9a 






i>i^ ' >'» * ^ 

< (N 


> 


V<^ - 












' D 

i' ^fy*c1 


A.' -7’^ 




^ If * I' 






His Own Host. 239 

was about to leap out of the scroll frame, and, flinging 
her lapful of flowers on the beholder, finish the caper 
on the floor. 

Soon the art critic yawned. 

Getting up, with an effort, he strolled to a window, 
deep in a recess, for it was cut in the wall and went out 
into a balcony; but it was all a wooden box, perforated 
but annoying the eye; the women who peeped out must 
have had little view for their pains. 

“Impossible to get a sight,” grumbled Porthos, see- 
ing double, although he complained. “And what to see 
at the best: that river running, running to make one 
giddy! The wall where the citizen-soldiers are playing 
at 'Soldier! the s^hops closed as in a great pest, fright- 
ened grocers fleeing from the wrath, thieves marking 
the houses they plan to plunde-r, all to cast the ignominy 
on the poor soldier! Bah! Would that the witches' 
dance would begin!” 

Although bored, he stood there a long w'hile, too in- 
dolent to move. He looked at the detached pavilion in 
the gardens. 

“Oho! Not at all a bad nest for a hornet to sally 
out of to make things hum! There are two or three 
cavaliers, whose horses were not taken from them, at 
the gates, halting at the garden wall. Can that Gascon 
be always right, and is that the rendezvous for the tim- 
orous duke? What skulkers! I shall always picture 
the Portuguese as cloaked and doing all deeds ^ mid- 
night!” 

Returning into the room, he placed' nearby a splen- 
did Moorish panoply, on its frame and stand, and 
drawing his sword, tried to rouse himself by fencing at 
it. He pinked the joints so that the original tenant, 
after this bout, would have resembled a patient under 
acu-puncture. 

“There,” said he, ceasing, and rubbing the slightly 
upturned point, to straighten it, on the carving knife, 
“if that had been even their Don Manuel the Lucky, he 
had been wounded so that all Beyra's oil would not ap- 
pease the aches.” 

He straddled a chair, as if in the saddle again. 

“As the colonel said, it is finer here than on that 


240 His Own Host. 

cihurch square. I wonder if that negress cook is still 
carrying on her trade as a war device? To drug a whole 
city! No, her lord, Don Pedro, is too high for that 
low trick. How drowsy I feel, since I partook of her 
Italian wine! 

“I trust my brother musketeer does not again come 
to crossing swords with our host! He is less delicate 
than I am, if he could continue his court to the fair 
Jacinta over a fraternal corpse. They might use strong 
language to each other — real brothers will abuse at 
times — some are so jealous of their sisters — but words! 
bubbles on the breaker! a fig for them! 

“ ‘Words are but wind — 

Swords are unkind!’ 

“Well-a-way! a smooth life flattens out wrinkles! 
And still nobody comes to town — Don Pedro or Don 
Juan! D’Artagnan or the count! Not a shot, not a 
shout! a fine thing if this revolution, lovely in its bud, 
comes to no blow! That Braganza will leave*” us to 
roast in the fire! Zounds, I am not a pagan, but I 
fear that my memory is so bad that if the Inquisition 
should put me to the test, I should gabble a camp ba'llad 
for a canticle, and not so much piety could be sweated 
out of me as to save me from the San Benito cap ! 

“A finer thing yet, to leave my verdant Vallon, my 
blooming Bracieux, and my peaceful Pierrefonds, all to 
be toasted at a stake in the Madrid Plaza Real — that 
cold burlesque of the Place Royale! Ah, life, life, we 
like you the better the older we grow!” 

At noon the streets were very bright for the season ; 
only on the sheltered side a few passengers wandered, 
muffled up to the eyes, and carrying weapons under the 
folds if they intended to defend the city, or valuables 
if they sought flight. 

‘T believe I shall be left alone here to await the Pre- 
tender,” groaned the lonely one. ‘T will have it made 
into a carving to set over my mantelpiece: ‘The Lord of 
du Vallon, as grandee of Portugual, opening, single- 
handed, the Lisibon Gates to King Juan IV.’ ” 

Happily, just when he had determined, at all risks, 
and in the teeth of the injunction to stay still, to quit 


His Own Host. 241 

Marianda House and venture out in search of the mus- 
keteer, he heard soft steps. 

Under orders of the major domo, four or five servants 
cleared the table and replaced the first meal with a 
lighter but still more varied banquet. It was the mun- 
cheon of our forefathers — debased into “luncheon” — a 
meal between meals. 

There was more than enoug^h for three, so that the 
master and D’Artagnan would not fare badly unless 
Porthos devoured all. The steward was discreet, or 
doubted the solitary guest’s lingual powers from what 
he had heard of them. He courted no conversation, and 
passed no remark about the other’s absence. 

The Lord of Du Vallon had not yet succumbed to 
the climate. Under the Equator he would have eaten 
as unsparingly as here. When the menials had with- 
drawn, he gently sauntered up to the board, surveying 
it with a growing welcome. 

“They seem to know me here,” he said, chuckling and 
taking the head. “The appetite gro'ws in eating, I be- 
lieve. But I will wait an hour, as the sun tells it off, 
and then, to it! at a feast like this, ill fares the hind- 
most!” 

The hour over, punctually he began. 

“I cannot find a fault except that I must be my own 
varlet. But I shall not be the gallant who told the 
King Harry that he was his own servant, and the king 
answered that he was ill-served! I must have been 
hungry to think the count’s cook was a slow-coach! 
Prime! I can see, as D’Artagnan told me, the Portu- 
guese are heirs to both Roman and Saracen. For 
here” — he laid the large knifeblade on a chine, pat- 
ting it so that the unctuous jelly oozed out and glazed 
its brown, “here we have a bit of boar, baked, worthy 
of a Roman cardinal’s buffet, and here a mess of boiled 
rice, each grain a pearl! studded with sun-dried grapes 
of Almeria, and stuck with cloves a little more thickly 
than milestones in France or crosses to the victims of 
roibbers in Spain!” 

He ate as if he had to look back a week to the last 
treat. 

“Halloa!” he exclaimed, replete, leaning back, as a 


242 His Own Host. 

scent of unknown source titillated his nostrils, “this is 
— is what? A Turk water-pipe, inseparable from all re- 
spectable siestas. That poor D’Artagnan, setting up 
as a philosopher and tripping after lovelight on those 
scorching streets! with this dessert neglected! That 
pipe smells good, and the amber cools the mouth! This 
is the way a warrior is chastened into a sybarite! I 
shall return to my lady, asking for only a stuffed-back 
chair and a footstool, to munch roast chestnuts and 
crab-apples swum in hot sherry! St. Pantaloon the 
Shuffling will be my patron.” 

Then he looked up with pretended horror. ‘He had 
forgot to say grace ! 

“The sharp stomach makes short grace!” sighed he, 
apologetically. “I was wishing D’Artagnan here — 
withdraw the desire! he would have blighted all. Don’t 
tell me! He would have soured the junkets by crying 
at each glass: ‘To the bride that I shall have!’ And 
he would have prayed to have his Jacinta, over there! 
As if I pray to have Madame du Vallon play the spoil- 
sport here! Still, were she here, I know how a fond 
husband should behave — luxuriously — the Lord forgive 
me, uxoriously, is what I mean! 

“Madame,” continued he, filling up two glasses with 
some unsteadiness, “allow me to offer you some pome- 
granite-ade — infallible for dispvel'ling the megrims!” 

He drank off his, and he drank “hers.” 

“But why these little trifling glasses for cordials? best 
of the set-out! What blockhead was he who had the 
whim at the first to offer the thin wine in goblets and 
the syrups in thimbles? When I am a high official at 
the new Court, I will, by this flask, alter it.” 

He shoved his chair back, but had not the force to 
rise. 

“Faith, I have fairly broken my fast — I can wait till 
dinner!” 

After a pause, during which the lighted pipe' continued 
to exhale its aroma, curiosity lent him the strength to 
make the effort to get up. 

He did so, and, trailing the pipe stem, found in the 
recess, a pile of cusbions on which he sank like a pasha. 

“Never have I smoked a boa-constrictor of a pipe like 


His Own Host. 24} 

this,” mumbled he, *‘with an alchemist’s furnace at the 
tail, and a bubbling like a watchpot! Yet the Orientals 
know a thing or two about the table — since they have 
tables, though low ones — ^but they are a people who 
squat on their heels — yet they can fight like gladiators. 
Natheless, this Indian weed has cheered many a poor 
wet, chilled mortal in the trenches; many a poor com- 
rade laid by the heels in the guardhouse, to my knowl- 
edge!” 

Several times, the mouthpiece had eluded him as if 
the head of a serpent in fact, but, inhaling from it, he 
finally dozed off. They might have rung the changes 
on the chimes of the cathedral and he would still have 
slumbered — our good Porthos, who never did things 
by halves. 

In the middle of the afternoon the attendants came in 
like a sultan’s mutes, and noiselessly removed the 
things. They listened to the deep breathing without a 
smile, contemplated the devastation due to one man, 
and departed without any heed farther than for one to 
linger. He looked to see that the hookah was in good 
order and that the mouthpiece was handy to the smoker, 
so that he could put it in his lips when awaking. 

Dark came on quickly, and the snoring diminished 
like a passing thunderstorm. The town showed no 
lights, distressed by reports that the rebel scouts had 
been seen in the vicinity, and that the Spanish, who had 
marched outside, had made common cause with them 
instead of defending the road to Madrid. 

All of a sudden, a scene on the wall (a Jordaens, 
‘'Skaters on the Great Canal, Saardam”) opened on 
hinges like a panel painting, and after a little hesitation, 
a black woman, low in stature, peered in. She could 
not see any one, since Porthos was in the recess, cur- 
tained over. 

The panel opened at the foot along the floor line. She 
stepped forward with a lightness not to be suspected of 
her build, and made the circuit of the room as if she 
saw in the dark. It was like an African warrior who 
had entered an Arab marque, and judged everything 
by touch. 

“They have gone, lady,” said she. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A FAIR EXCHANGE. 

“You may oome in,” continued the woman, speaking 
very low. 

“Are you quite certain, Quaqua?” inquired Donna 
Jacinta, appearing in her turn, but having to stoop to 
enter by the picture door. 

Reassured, the maid of honor tripped into the apart- 
ment. All the light was the glimmer through the win- 
dows, set with large Venetian panes where the blown 
glass of the Moors had not been retained, but this even- 
ing there was that after-glow which astronomers attrib- 
ute to the stars. “Lady Jacinta,” went on the negress, 
“I saw the French gentleman who hired our inn, who is 
to the stout one as the pestle to the mortar, go out into 
Carmel Church Square!” 

“He was seeking me, at my timely and temporary 
refuge?” 

“Not a doubt of it.” 

“How was he to know that an old servant of ours 
kept that Indian store?” 

“How, indeed?” 

“But what are you snuffing at?” 

“There is something burning — no, it is tobacco! Oh, 
they have been smoking!” 

“It was a good idea of mine not to linger there, where 
my brother would put questions of Marco, but to pro- 
ceed instantfly to the summerhouse in our own gardens.” 

“Very good! But you had a better one to press me 
into your train.” 

“Indeed, I do not know what I should do without 
you.” 

“That is what my Lord of Braganza says to my Lord 
Pedro. We are neither of us beauties, but we do hand- 
some deeds.” 

“You tell me my brother was hurt in that encounter?” 

“The French gentleman ran him through the sword- 


A Fair Exchange, 245 

arm as if gaffing a halibut. Cli'sh, clash, zip! and the 
battle was over.’’ 

“And yet my brother is accounted one of the best 
blades in Spain.” 

“There never was a smith forged a blade but he might 
make a better.” 

“I suspect it was not so much the blade on the sword 
handle as the one holding the handle!” 

“The cdlonel also came back to the square, but he 
was in haste, and a mounted soldier riding up, they went 
off together. Great events are overhanging.” 

“You tell me we may expect ” 

“The duchess will demand your hospitality ” 

“What a hatppy thing that the summerhouse is de- 
tached, as far as my brother knows, from this house.” 

“He does not know. I do not know how Pedro 
found it out, but, you see, he told me of the secret pas- 
sage under the ground and into here.” 

“They have been eating here!” 

“Drinking, certainly — 'there are empty bottles under 
the table! They are lodged here, I suppose. Your 
brother has taken them to his bosom!” 

“Impossible, Quaqua. He does mot swerve in his 
duty. Embrace a man who wounded him, on the eve 
of battle — men who are against Spain!” 

“Perhaps they have coaxed him over!” 

“Coaxed with a sword thrust!” 

“Marry! There are odd somersets in politics!’' said 
the cook, with her notions and language above her con- 
dition. “Wlien Don Juan crosses the threshold, you 
will see the citizens, not in uniform, wearing turncoats,” 
and she laughed in a low key. “Besides, the Caballero 
de Gannarta can talk the leg off a table !” 

“This is awkward,” mused the young lady. “This 
room is in the route continuing this passage by which 
we would have had an egres's to the streets. In case of 
a repulse, Don Juan and the duchess should have means 
of flight.” 

“I don’t think we can be beaten. We have a great 
force secretly in the town. Our sailors are lodging with 
the fishermen in their quarters, and they enter freely. 
As for king, I thought he would enter with flying 


246 A Fair Exchange. 

colors, on a white horse, and stop at the gates to re- 
ceive the keys from the Alcalde?” 

“Oh, the day has gone hy for pageants, I fear ! tour- 
neys, open-air fighting on open ground. Now we 
undermine, storm in the dawn, and open city gates with 
golden keys.” 

“All this will not please Captain Pedro and his crews 
— they want close quarters, only room to swing a hand- 
spike — 'that is Jack’s play !” and the negress’ eyes blazed 
in the dark. 

“Heaven forbid that my brother should find that the 
Caballero of Gannarta is endeared to the native cause!” 

“There is a worse thing — ^to find out that the Cabal- 
lero is in love with a Portuguese maiden endeared to 
him, Don Jorge.” 

“What do you mean?” 

A little more warmly and the sleeper must have over- 
heard. 

“He is more concerned in whom you love than whom 
the Caballero loves!” 

“What, do I wear my flame emblazoned on my 
bodice?” hissed Jacinta, almost angered. 

“Madame, it is something which I saw!” 

“Are you a witch?” 

“No, a cook! Our eyes are Cupid’s fortune-ebooks — 
any one can read the leaves.” 

“My eyes betray me now! But as a cook ” 

“Why, the cook noticed that your appetite fell off. 
When a young woman eats no more than a lovebird, she 
must have a mate to feed her, or she pines !” 

“Hem! here is a valise,” said Jacinto, to turn the 
talk, as she paused by a window, illuminated by the re- 
flection of a bonfire on the plaza. 

On a settee was Porthos’ purchase at Oporto. 

“A bundle of clothes, anyway,” said Quaqua, feeling 
the find. 

“It is laced up.” 

“My knife laughs at ties,” observed Quaqua, drawing 
a knife from her hose-top band. 

“What, would you open ” 

“Snick! It is open!” 

“You have slit it ” 


A Fair Exchange. 247 

“As I would a man, if he had a state secret in his 
chest !” responded the negress, calmly. 

“Why commit such a rudeness?” 

“My volunteer fiscal officer,” said Captain Pedro’s 
housekeeper, “we must see if they have gone over to 
the enemy! If King Philip has bought them, the Ca- 
ballero of Gannarta at your valuation and the Knight 
of the Stupendous Appetite at Don Juan’s, this ought 
to contain a huge order on the mint, which it would 
stagger the Soleiman tribe to cash, or an amount in 
gold to crack a mule’s back!” 

“There is nothing but new clothes!” 

“They have found them uniforms, then! What is 
this?” 

“A piece of vellum!” 

“What did I say! the order on the High Treasurer 
of Madrid!” 

“Nothing of that sort!” holding it up against the 
pane. 

“Would it be a love letter?” 

“Pish ! stranger than thait ! the law script is entangled, 
but I know enough by the names — this is the mort- 
gage of Filoriador to SoleLman, hy my father.” 

“Oh, I know something about that!” 

Is there anything you do not know?” 

“When the Jew Elizor came to his wits, after having 
been picked up ou the cliff, instead of thanking his 
savers, he accused the French sailors of robbing him of 
a packet of valuable papers. The Caballero de Gan- 
narta hushed him with that keen voice of his which 
would silence a tattling termagant, and sho-wed the 
wallet, of which he had relieved him, no doubt. In a 
little, the usurer, seeing what we all saw, that the gal- 
lant had fallen in love with the princess’ lady attend- 


“Oh, all saw that?” biting her lip. 

“A ship need not fly her flag to declare her home 
port and her cargo!” 

“But you do more, soothsayer! you declare the port 
she is doomed to ! But go on ! I am as transparent as 
crystal! I am a condemned creature, alas!” 

“The king’s order holds you out as a waive, indeed. 


248 A Fair Exchange. 

but, love you! wild horses should not drag us apart F 
I do not shrink from you!” 

“No, I have not noticed you shrink!” 

“As soon as the money-spinner saw that the chev- 
alier loved your ladyship, and your ladyship the chev- 
alier — in short, as Hymen came forward to relieve Cu- 
pid of his watch, he gallantly gave the paper to the 
Frenchman as his wedding present!” 

“Incredible! a Jew, and we old Christians! so much 
gallantry in a Jew, so much generosity in an usurer!” 

“I guess he did not give it as a money-lender or a 
Jew, but as a man who loved excellence in man and 
woman!” 

“I shall admire those people all my life!” 

“Well, lady, where I come from they eat folks. When 
our king objected to a follower who devoured an 
albino, he said: ‘They are all one, under the skin!’ Man 
pretty much the same, lady!” 

“Ugh! But you are a dear woman! and that Elizor 
prince of Israelites! All this is plausible, but how 
comes the document here, at my brother’s!” 

“In the Frenchman’s valise? He handed it to your 
brother t'o plaster the stab he made!” 

“Upon my faith, you may be right again!” 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

“Take it into safer keeping — my family paper — my 
mother always wanted Floriador to be mine! But I 
will leave, instead, a writing of my hand.” 

So s'aying, Jacinta took down from its long cord at- 
tached to the wall a hand looking-glass. She scrib- 
bled upon its face with a finger ring. This little mirror, 
scratched with the diamond, she thrust back among 
Porthos’ habiliments. 

“Quick! I hear!” 

“Steps!” 

With great activity, the corpulent black shot the bolt 
in the door and furthermore lowered a strong bar across 
it into an iron socket. 

Donna Jacinta had already darted into the aperture. 
Quaqua followed her closely, and drew the picture- 
panel shut, hermetically. 


A Fair Exchange. 249 

At the same instant, a hasty hand tried the fastened 
door, and then began pounding on it with a hard fist. 

Porthos sprang up, awake, like a good soldier who 
sleeps on his arms, and, sword in hand, hastened tO' the 
point atta'cked while his eyes were opening. 

“Porthos, Porthos!’' was the call. 

“All’s well! D’Artagnan! Why not come right in?” 

“Come in? Are you drunk? How can I come in, when 
you have barred and bolted the door!” 

“So I have,” replied Du Vallon, feeling, without abil- 
ity to see that it was so. “I do not remember; but 
you could not have done that from the outside!” 

He undid the door gropingly. A dazzling light 
blinded him. The musketeer appeared, illumined by a 
two-light candlestick held by a servant. 

Porthos drew further back, and his friend followed 
him well into the room. The footman placed the light 
on the console, and seeing that Porthofe had overturned 
the hookah, took it out with him. 

“What a time you were opening?” grumbled the 
newcomer, falling into the first chair. 

“He did not find the prize,” thought the amiable 
knight, sympathetically, “that is Why he is cross, for 
once! Oh, these lovers!” 

Without being a wiseacre, he had discovered that the 
best way to counteract disagreeableness is to redouble 
one’s good-humor; his broad face instantly beamed and 
his smile widened. 

“I was killing time in your long absence,” began he. 

“For which, to have no witnesses, you locked your- 
self in! But with what? All ‘the dead men’ I see are 
under the table.” 

“Oh, the voided bottles; you are rig’ht. I was drink- 
ing, eating and smoking!” 

“I can smell smoke, but I see no crumbs ” 

“That is because I ate all up! It was a light colla- 
tion. If there were any scraps they fell off — — ” 

“With the dishes?” 

Porthos stared; he was unaware of the table having 
been cleared. 

“Never heed! but you were in the dark, like you 
are leaving me.” 


250 A Fair Exchange. 

“So am I still, about wbat is going on. What is 
the town doing? I could not question the servants, and 
I believe they are the tongueless ones of the Grand 
Mogul!” 

“Why, the town is a cave of the winds, and cross- 
ing ones, too,” said the musketeer, undoing his belt and 
rubbing his compressed sides. “From opposite parts 
came cries of ‘Long live’ some one or other. ‘Death’ 
to this or that — the loudest shouters being indoors. 
Half the houses on the Palace Place are illuminated, the 
other in mourning. The boys are making bonfires and 
burning effigies — the stock of effigies running short, 
they are burning tradesmen’s signs and saints in wood 
from the corner shrines. The citizens who carry water 
on both shoulders hang out banners with Philip on one 
side and Juan on the other!” 

“Poor crown!” said Porthos, pretending interest in 
this worn topic. 

“Yes, a bone for which the foolish dogs tear one 
another; then a third cur, perhaps, rushes in and runs 
off with it!” 

“If it is Pedro, he would make a good king!” said 
the giant guardsman, without prejudice. 

“Porthos, those are not empty bottles under the ta- 
ble, but trunks ” 

“Trunks — we had no traveling trunks.” 

“Very baggy trunks; large as a bombard! true ‘can- 
non’ breeches!” 

Porthos looked along the floor — it was strewn with 
his new garments. 

“Who the plague carpeted the floor with my suit?” 
he growled, cross as his friend when he was kept at 
the door. 

“It seems to me that, in spite of Marianda House 
being guarded by janissaries, more or less mute, they 
are probably more or less deaf and blind, since they 
have let cloak-snatchers run all over you while you 
slept!” 

“Well, I grant that I must have winked. But, 
thieves — ^hoiw could there be thieves when the door 
was barred and bolted?” 

“That is the puzzle!” 


A Fair Exchange. 251 

“My dear comrade, there is magic! enchant ” 

“Enchanted fiddlesticks!” 

“It is magic! Lisbon is haunted! If, when Rome 
was in a pinch, ghosts caracoled up and down before 
her temples, why should not Lisbon have its spectre 
or two? Besides, you yourself have said it — the ghostly 
Don Sebastian appears on the wall walks ! and in my 
dream — now it comes to me — I saw phantoms glide 
about this room!” 

“Phantoms caused by your puffing at that nargilye 
which you do not understand!” 

“I had it on my tongue-tip, though! I did see some- 
thing!” 

“Porthos, you have no originality! You saw some- 
thing white in a sheet?” 

“Not a bit ! It was black, and in gay colors !” 

“Don Sebastian burnt to a crisp by the African sun! 
ha, ha! Did this black ghost take any money out of 
your pockets?” 

“No; I have my purse here, under my hand.” 

D’Artagnan kicked the fallen clothes together. 

“Tliere is something shining on the heap on the 
chair,” continued the musketeer, taking up the hand 
reflector. “Curled darling that you are, do you carry 
a mirror to inspect your toilet before you go out on 
parade ?” 

“A mirror!” said the other, certainly little like a Nar- 
cissus. “I never carried a mirror! unkind D’Artag- 
nan!” 

“It is not merely a mirror, but a book!” 

“A book?” 

“At least, it is a leaf with writing ” 

He was not much astonished at this vehicle of com- 
munication. Ever since the invention of glass windows, 
say a hundred years before, crystallography — writing 
on glass, not writing about crystals — had been popular 
with those who wished to show not only their callig- 
raphy, but their possession of a diamond. As pro- 
ficients in the art. Queen Elizabeth of England and 
King Francis I. of France may be cited. 

“What are you reading that causes a red face?” 
queried the stout cavalier. 


252 A Fair Exchange. 

He was handed the mi. ror to read, as the scrawl was 
in his own language: 

“Kin may have bound me. 

Foes deep may wound me ! 

They pain the heart, but all they do’s restrain ! 

Oh, would you know me. 

Love you must show me ! 

And find the noblest, surest way to reign !” 

“Faith, this poet, I think, has drunk full from Par- 
nassus’ pump,” commented Porthos. “I take back any 
accusation that there were thieves here, or the Don 
Seibastian spirit — it was just a sapper who ” 

“Bless us and preserve us! A sapper for a Sappho! 
Porthos, a sapper is one who carries on his boring with 
pick and spade, while a Sappho ” 

“Bores with pen, or in this case with diamond ! But I 
am half right — this mansion is tunneled and mined! 
Hark! here comes the poet for his meed!” 

“His? hers! If this be Sappho, her feet are not 
poetic — but in horseman’s boots and she is armed for 
war! Let swords rest — it is only our host.” 

It was the count, armed with back and breastplate 
and gorget; his morion had a steel bar to protect the 
nose. Each side of this his eyes glittered with liveli- 
ness. In his belt was a pair of very fine pistols such 
as princes carried against assassins, and balancing 
them, on the other flank, was thrust a folded paper, 
ostensibly a warrant or order. 

“Sorry to disturb you, sirs,” said he, quickly, “but 
a most grave circumstance hurries me home!” 

“At all hours your lordship’s servant !” 

Porthos bowed. 

“The double kingdom’s safety is at stake. A terrible 
plot is winding among the loyal. We are trying to seize 
the coils before they strangle loyalty!” 

“Let it coil, as long as it does not strike,” returned 
the French captain, tranquilly. 

“But it has struck — a stroke of unparalleled audac- 
ity!” 

“Indeed!” 

“Only some fifty strong, the fishermen of the Varinha 
Ward, who have free access into the town, came to 


A Fair Exchange. 253 

the Corregidor^s house, with their panniers, as if bring- 
ing deep-sea food as usual to the soldiers there. When 
I say fifty, half the number were concealed in the 
baskets, carried between two or four men. Once in 
the yard, these leaped out, handing their comrades 
weapons, and the fifty invaded the castle!’' 

"‘Capital!” and D’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled. 

“The baskets also contained grenades and port-fire; 
so that the Casa del Corregidor cannot be approached 
under penalty of that part being laid in ashes!” 

“Bravo!” cried Porthos. 

“Bravo! to the insurgents?” said Jorge de Marianda, 
frowning. 

“My friend means that so little will not cool the 
Spanish ardor! How did the Corregidor meet the sur- 
prise, being a man of war?” 

“He was made prisoner, this poor Balteazor de 
Zumaya ! But that is not the sting ! The successful vil- 
lains, headed by a ^man called Captain Pedro, kept 
so quiet over their taking, that Colonels Carinha and 
Potargo walked into the house, with their escorts, 
thinking to attend a council as usual! This makes me 
senior colonel but one!” 

“A Captain Pedro? It seems to me that this 
usurper of a Don Juan must be short of soldiers to 
employ fishermen for a stroke of war.” 

“Very short!” added Porthos, frowning. 

“Soldiers or fishers, he gains that position in our 
midst,” said the colonel, sulkily. “The one thing is to 
assemble all the stray soldiers and the able citizens, 
and deliver our friends at the Corregidor’s !” 

“At the risk of the smelt catchers blowing up the 
whole?” 

“Trash!” 

“I can see,” muttered Porthos, “that our friend owns 
no houses in that part!” 

“In a word, we must turn out these rebels, since we 
meet them face to face at last?” 

“I am asking nothing better! For one, I should like 
to have that Captain Pedro within grasp of this my 
hand!” 


254 A F^ir Exchange. 

‘‘I have gathered two hundred men, and they are in 
the Clothworkers’ close 

“Against fifty netters and gaffers, ample!” 

“Then,, come! the invitation to the dance includes 
your friend.” 

Through all his haste and martial ardor, a thought 
sent a pang through him; he could be seen to wrestle 
with emotions, the better of which conquered, for his 
features became composed and a smile, pale but lofty, 
filmed over them. He strode to a table with writing 
materials, and wrote an address on an envelope hastily 
made, which he sealed. Tliis he covered over with 
blank paper, also sealed. Returning to the musketeer 
captain, he said, in a voice not very steady. 

“I go smiling forth, but may come home with death's 
grin on my lips. If that befalls me, I charge you with 
delivering this to the person named within. You can 
touch hands with her without contamination!” 

Afraid that he should, in saying more, add too much, 
he sprang away, calling “Come!” as he left the room. 

“Forth os,” said the musketeer, peremptorily, “go with 
my lord!” 

“And you ? But, if I am under fire ?” 

“Fire back! only I know you are too good a marks- 
man to hit one of Pedro's girth!” 

“And you? — you back out of a chance medley?” 

“My friend, I am going into the heat of this medley!” 

Having no doubt that the new recruits would follow 
him, Don Jorge had run out to give instructions to his 
servants to arm and reinforce his company. 

''Adios! as they say — meaning that we shall meet 
again!” 

“If it means that — adios, with all my heart! But 
what mean you by going into the heat of it, in that 
direction!” 

“Where my heart is ! I want to verify this writing !” 
waving the mirror. 

“That won't parry a musketoon ball! Oh, I see! I 
am to take care of the brother while you ” 

“Take care of the sister — and her property!” 

“Property?” 

“Do you know what packet the colonel gave me? 


A Fair Exchange. 255 

No; in that blank inclosure was the mortgage of Flor- 
iador, directed to Donna Jacinta!” 

“On the eve of battle, he remembered the poor lady! 
Come, he is not so bad at heart after all ! He shall not be 
hurt in this affray — not while Balizarde can be brand- 
ished!” 

“Helloa, there! are you never coming?” shouted the 
count from the gardens. 

“Have with you!” responded Porthos, in his lusty 
voice, which was heard through doors and walls. 

“Then, what are you hanging back for?” queried 
D’Artagnan. 

“To put on my clothes,” said Portho’s, hastily strip- 
ping in part; “do you think I bought these to equip 
ghosts!” 

And attiring himself in the beadle’s suit, he appeared 
after the other, glorious as a pupa which had become a 
butterfly. 

He descended the stairs five at a jump. 

“Now,” said his friend, left alone. “I have no time 
to go for a locksmith, but will make my sword pierce 
this mysterious entrance, by which a black spectre 
rummages Porthos’ clothes, purloins that packet and 
hands a companion phantom, of another hue, I guess, 
this glass on which to discourse in loving metre!” 

Having a good idea of the nice cabinetwork of the 
period, he found the panel picture by the removal of the 
dust on the floor by its opening, inserted his sv^ord 
as a chisel, cleft the spring bolt and plunged into the 
orifice. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

A CORPOREAL SHADE. 

Porthos, glorified by his resplendent apparel, found 
in the patio several footmen left by the impatient 
count-colonel to be his escort and to guide him to their 
meeting place. With the better-armed he had gone 
off. He gave them no time to admire his change, but, 
with his sword out, put himself at their head, the stew- 
ard by his side, and motioned the start. His lieuten- 
ant translated the gesture into words, and they sallied 
briskly out of the gardens. At the little door in the 
wall convenient for the pavilion, two or three squires 
were holding horses, as Porthos had descried from 
above, but they passed them without being challenged. 

The streets were so lonely that it was with amaze 
that they unexpectedly found their way completely 
blocked at a turning. 

A long wall, with towers at the angles, was that of 
the Carmelite Sisters’ Convent. The square building 
was visible over the parapet, spiked and studded with 
shards. 

A mob covered the space from the wall to the fronts 
of the opposite houses, mean and low. Instruments of 
every trade were flourished as weapons, showing that 
the men had come out of their shops at a general call. 

Porthos could see over his followers, who gathered 
around him at the halt, like hens around chanticleer. 
He made a little way into the press by sheer weight, and 
demanded, through the major domo, his interpreter, the 
cause of the collection, of a cook’s boy, who waved a 
saucepan like a mace. 

“Sirrah, pastry maker, why this obstacle to the high- 
way ?” 

“Master,” returned the culinary artist, flattered by the 
address of a finely-clad gentleman, “that wretched old 
monk, the doorward to the Carmelite Convent, on seeing 
us coming, locked the gate in our faces and threw the 
key over the wall.” 

4 


A Corporeal Shade. 257 

“Why should he not? Surely, even nuns may choose 
their visitors!’' 

“Cry you mercy, noble sir! It is a begging sister- 
hood, and it is written, ‘Beggars should not be 
choosers !’ ” 

“Witty, but it is not charitable. For what do you want 
to enter the sanctuary? Are there no men to clout and 
claw ?’’ 

“There are plenty of Spanish to fight, certainly, but 
they have sneaked into the strong-houses, do you see? 
We have little to force them out with! Taking the pet- 
ticoats — I mean, the frocks — for protection, the Gov- 
ernor has stored two tons of powder and three or four 
cartloads of pig-lead in the cloisters, with seven or eight 
hundred stand of arms ” 

“Humph !” said the honest Porthos, “that makes your 
disorderly conduct a military precaution ” 

“Military necessity! We are not only depriving the 
enemy of solid comfort, but arming our side, which is 
lamentably deficient in firearms.” 

The steward intimated to Porthos that this was a self- 
confessed rebel, and that parley was out of place. 

“You are a fine though incautious speaker,” said the 
Frenchman, “and I am indebted to you. But, since the 
old man threw the key out of reach, which was his duty, 
why pull him about?” 

“The lads only sought to take the rope girdle off him 
to try to scale the wall, but he resisted tooth and nail, so 
that those who were scratched fell on him savagely. He 
still resists, crying out that the rope is a blessed one, 
having belonged to a saint of the order ” 

“The dotard ! Who would not lose a fathom of rope 
to save an inch of skin?” 

“To tell the whole tale,” continued the youth, whose 
eloquence was collecting an audience around them, “the 
lads, finding the rope too short, were making up the 
deficiency with his sackcloth robe, whereupon he 
shrieked out that they were flaying him.” 

“Yes, they are using their knives to undress him ! They 
will disjoint him!” 

“Have no fear! Those with the knives are curriers, 
trained to shave close without harming the pelt !” |l 


258 A Corporeal Shade. 

‘'Zounds ! They shall not murder a poor old man for 
doing his duty!” protested Porthos. “Do you under- 
stand this ?” 

Dispensing with his informant and his interpreter, he 
drew back a little, only to plunge forward with lowered 
head, like a bull. Expecting no onslaught from this 
quarter, the crowd gave way right and left, and his first 
rush brought him nearly up to the door set in the wall. 

In the recess, with his only garment half stripped off, 
lay the janitor’s emaciated body. 

“We’ll teach you how to lock doors ! We’ll show you 
how to scale walls!” cried his tormentors, flagellating 
him with his O'wn blessed cord. 

“And I,” roared Porthos, opening his arms over the 
victim so forcibly that he sent half a dozen of the fore- 
most sprawling at their friend’s feet, “I will teach you 
not to disgrace humanity !” 

The shout in the unknown tongue startled everybody, 
but when they saw, flaming with indignation and splendid 
with gold lace, this superhuman knight, a panic thrilled 
them all. From several white mouths was uttered the 
common impression: 

“Don Sebastian ! The ghost of King Sebastian !” 

Whereupon, nearly everybody of susceptible feelings 
turned and fled. 

Porthos thought the field was clear, but he had not 
counted on another element of the horde; this was the 
scum of the Lazaretto- Jewry, such as he had been among 
on his first acquaintance with Lisbon. Outcasts, reveling 
in the withdrawal of all constitutional repression, they 
were intoxicated with their sudden freedom and draughts 
of beverage more potent that Quaqua’s. They, had a 
chance to vent their hatred for all controllers, priests, 
soldiers, watchmen, and they abused the opportunity. 
They did not seek the ammunition in the convent so much 
as wreaking their spite. They wanted the blood of this 
monk, as a representative of his order. 

Recovering from any supverstitious fears at seeing the 
supposed ghost in their midst, very corporeal, they mus- 
tered to attack him), trampling the janitor under foot as 
they gathered. 

Porthos used his sword reversed as a mace, then smote 


A Corporeal Shade. 259’ 

with the flat of it, and was beginning to pierce and cut 
when the Marianda servitors came to his aid. All dis- 
appeared under the dense rioters, like bulls under a pack 
of dogs. 

As if to infuriate the rabble still more, some one inside 
the inclosure, standing on stones, threw boiling water 
and missiles over, with more violence than discrimination, 
for the old monk’s defenders had their share. 

This added oil to the flames. The chorus of threats, 
imprecations, groans and shrieks of pain and choler in- 
creased; pistols and short-cut guns were fired at any 
risk; one or two shots threatened to spoil Porthos’ suit, 
and flattened on the door. All those improvised weapons 
which bristle at a popular rising menaced the newcom- 
ers ; spears made of shears, knives tied to dyers’ poles, 
meat-choppers mounted on clubs, bludgeons of vine- 
stakes ; those who had been in Africa used sticks as 
djerids, and darted them at the knot of defenders around 
the fallen wretch. 

The latter bid fair to be trodden to pulp. Luckily, if 
it was good luck, the revengeful hands drew him out 
from the press and finished the last stripping — his robe 
was converted into ribbons, which waved as triumphant 
banners over his dilapidated form. 

At the same instant that Porthos and the steward tried 
to disengage themselves — not to retire, but to charge to 
the deliverance — the mob recoiled and dropped the prize. 

One of them had plucked from the body, suspended by 
a thong, an iron dagger, of which he had attempted to 
make no use; either he had scruples against blood-spill- 
ing, or it was not a weapon, but a token. 

While the finder of this instrument held it in doubt, 
about, perhaps, to settle it by plunging it into the ill- 
fated janitor, the ruffians made the final attack on the 
interferers with their pastime. 

Front and rear, from all sides, weapons and projectiles 
rained ; blinded, hampered, unable to strike, the servants 
of M'arianda were forced back on their two leaders ; Por- 
thos, losing his footing, feeling that the hands on his 
arm and sword hilt might wrest it away, shouted, in des- 
peration : 


26 o a Corporeal Shade. 

“France! France! Brothers of the Coast! Sustain 
me ! The Musketeers !” words of no avail. 

At this instant a bystander, whose hair and beard 
bristled and whose face turned pale, gasped, as he 
knocked the dagger out of his companion’s grasp: 

“The Holy Brotherhood! It is the token of the In- 
quisition !” 

One look at the dagger, similar to that which Fra 
Benito had drawn upon Don Juan de Braganza, sufficed 
the mob. 

As one man, they took to their heels, throwing down 
what might impede their flight. In a twinkling the street 
was bare. Relieved of the pressure, the Knight of the 
Vallon staggered back against the wall. The steward 
raised the insensible monk. Another took up the dagger, 
fallen from the frightened rioter’s palsied hand. 

“This is a superior of the Inquisition,” said the stew- 
ard, awed. 

The Frenchman was amused at the retreat. 

“Hum! a great fight, if it were a poor monk,” criti- 
cized he. “A poor one if it were a superior officer of 
that institution. But your master awaits us. Strike on 
the 'door and tell the sisters that the riffraff have fled. 
Get the poor fellow in to their care, if he is not sped. 
Let them look to those reckless wretches, too, if they 
will.” 

The street was strewn with the disabled. 

The inhabitants of the convent must have had their 
peephole. The flight had been perceived, for the door 
opened quickly. Several old men, gardeners and porters, 
issued and took in the sorely-buflFeted janitor, if janitor 
he was. He had revived a little ; he looked with deep and 
glazed eyes on Porthos, whom he had seen in his finery at 
the onset, and seemed to wave his hand in gratitude. 
But the soldier was paying him no heed — the whole in- 
cident was out of his consideration by this. 

“A well-tousled man,” muttered the steward, seeing 
the profound care with which the men treated the cause 
of the contention. “It is no business of mine, but since 
when have the Carmelites had a leading spirit of the In- 
quisition to keep the gate ? Those villains guessed rightly 
enough — there is a treasure in that convent.” 


A Corporeal Shade. 26 1' 

“Haste! haste!’’ cried Porthos, girding his sword on 
and preening his torn and ruffled feathers. “Let us join 
your lord!” He rubbed himself here and there, where 
stones had left a hruise. “Take me for St. Sebastian, 
did they? For St. Stephen, I would sooner think. 
Strange that D’Artagnan did not come up while we were 
so prettily delayed. It’s that feminine Robin Goodfellow ! 
They light our path, but it is to perdition ! Fall in ; for- 
ward — march !” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

TAPPING THE VOLCANO. 

To Porthos’ troop no further resistance arose; they 
were soon at the Casa del Corregidor. Count Jorge was 
there, compelled to 'siit down before it for a siege, since it 
was shut up close. Here and there, in fresh-cut holes in 
the floors of the overhanging story and balconies, musket 
muzzles protruded, with a brass blunderbuss or two. 

At the small windows dangled by iron handles those 
hand-grenades brought by the Coast Brothers. These 
were not fixed upon or grappled at, for fear they would 
explode at a touch and rain down inextinguishable fires. 

Beyond the small body of Spanish formed another 
ring, or several circles, augmenting each instant, as if 
the darkness called the wolves out of their coverts. 
Among them, Porthos thought he recognized more than 
one of his assailants; they had bound bandages over 
their heads as if they had been cracked over the pate by 
his sword-flat, or pommeled. Marianda was fretting 
sorely. 

“Your delay was bad, but, altogether, our being held 
at bay is fatal grumbled he, after thanking him for the 
arrival and asking after his companion. “My men hesi- 
tate to attack, fearing the prowess of these pirates, as 
they esteem them, and that this gathering rabble will 
fall on our rear, if we meet a reverse. Lookers-on may 
be leapers-on in such in-and-in fighting.” 

“My lord, they fight like desperadoes, though indiffer- 
ently armed. And those seamen are indeed to be dreaded, 
using pike and axe and delighting in hand-to-hand en- 
counters. That crowd does not murmur — I most dis- 
trust those long cloaks — they are hiding firedogs, I 
wager !” 

The lookers- on were too calm ; no murmurs, as Por- 
thos said; staring, counting the soldiers and their arms; 
seeming to wait patiently for a signal, but whether to fall 
on the Spanish or aid them to assault the Corrector’s 
castle, none could tell. 


Tapping the Volcano. 263 

“If they had a head, I v^ould question him,” said the 
colonel. “A gentleman cannot address a horde !” 

At this, a rider made his way, with difficulty, and more 
by wheedling speech than his horse’s shoulders, through 
the concourse ; he could define that Porthos and the other 
were the commanding officers. 

“General,” said he, judging the Frenchman by his 
coat, and, besides, like a clever subaltern, wishing to 
court favor by promoting him honorably, “the mob is im- 
mense around the Viceroy’s palace; it has been swelling 
from five this morning.” 

“They have taken their time !” 

“Oh, they are not pressed. Many came in from the 
countryside ; they ate their dinner off their palm.” 

“What news? You have not hurried it.” 

“The people put the night-chains across the streets 
and dug trenches here and there to mire the artillery. I 
had to leap my horse, and strained his tendons. The 
police lieutenant sent out a file of us to bring in all strag- 
gling soldiers, but they have got out over the walls. 
They say the enemy’s van is at hand, and gladly receives 
deserters — every private is made a corporal, and so on. 
But hasten, if you would save the vice-queen! I hear 
shots I You may be too late I” 

“Well, sir?” asked Jorge, of the Frenchman, politely. 

“Well, colonel, I should leave the Corregidor to discuss 
the price of fish with this Pedro! A vice-queen is worth 
a couple of corregidors, sex apart ! In picking this fish, 
the bones may prick our fingers. Let us hasten to the 
great lady’s aid, as this worthy cavalier suggests.” 

Porthos hadi no desire to charge upon his friend Pedro. 

Count Marianda might be obstinate, but his men did 
not like the prospect of an advance under a rear fire. 
Those cloaks had unmasked short guns, as Porthos had 
surmised. They had the impression that the castle was 
a crater and they did not court tapping the lava. 

At his sign the two filers struck up and the long-bar- 
reled dTum was thumped. They formed a solid, if thin 
column, and pierced the crowd, which sullenly opened 
and closed immediately. 

“Mark !” said the musketeer. 

He was confining himself to monosyllables. 


264 Tapping the Volcano. 

Jorge looked over his shoulder. The long cloaks were 
cast back; their wearers plainly shouldered firearms, 
which, if of obsolete patterns, might riddle his column at 
close range ; they formed a battalion more numerous than 
his and followed step for step, as if their curiosity about 
the invested Corregidor’s was passed. 

Indeed, the firing of musketry at the palace was ani- 
mated and attracting. The palace had been engirt since 
morning. Thousands had come from curiosity, but they 
were unable to wriggle out when other thousands arrived, 
impelled by a stronger sentiment. 

All classes were confounded in this seething pot; the 
plaza of the royal palace: nobles, traders, merchants, 
shore toilers, workmen, priests and women, who were 
agitatedly holding their companions’ hands until the mo- 
ment when they would put t?he weapons in them. 

Well into the day, the front wore its usual aspect. 

The gentlemen in attendance, officers and courtiers, in- 
habiting the residence, pretended not to believe danger 
menaced them and carried on the ceremony of the vice- 
queen’s morning reception. The guards’ officers on serv- 
ice chatted and laughed over-loudly in the central court- 
yard. The mock Moorish minstrels who had played 
while the vice-queen took her chocolate, in semi-public 
state, had chosen the! lightest and liveliest airs — ^and 
Spanish ones, too. 

But the confluence toward this spot became so appalling 
that even the most stolid were enfevered, and the pru- 
dent slipped away on one errand and another. Some 
young officers spoke of pointing cannon on the gazers 
who came too near the gateway, but found no echoes. 
Such action would be rash, and rashness is folly, when a 
people are in ebullition. 

In fact, all Lisbon and all Portugal (only the country 
loved the cause more fondly and openly) was honey- 
combed with mutiny. D’Artagnan could have told the 
chief all about that. For the most part, the older of- 
ficials, accustomed all their life to merely discontent, had 
become fossils; they appeared to drink that Rio Tinto 
water which is fabled to petrify. 

Suddenly the square, filled to the edges, flashed over 
its sombre surface with white points and rays. At least 


Tapping the Volcano. 265 

every other man had throv^n back his cloak and displayed 
a “white” weapon — ^that is, one of burnished steel. As 
for the others, 'they had firearm's, pistols, petronels, 
escopetas, firedogs. The musketry covered the swords^- 
men, and all marched directly to where posts had been 
assigned. 

There were four main columns. At the head of one, a 
Portuguese ex-captain of the royal hunt charged the 
watch house at the main entrance. Not taken by sur- 
prise, the guards, having only their halberds, retired into 
the stone roundhouse. Three or four porters began 
tugging at the iron gratings to swing them shut; they 
managed this, but the wooden doors, bound with iron, 
had been imbedded in the mud flirted on them by the 
coaches. Levers and picks would be required to loosen 
them. A hail of stones, bullets and sticks drove them 
away from the useless attempt. Some pierced the open 
ironwork and splintered the wood. 

A warder who tried to lock the gates successfully 
closed, had the enormous key driven into his breast. 

At the next instant the rush broke down one of the 
gates and bore the other back, crushing those who were 
struggling with the inner one. 

Part of the storming party faced round and poured a 
volley into the guardhouse by the airhole over the door 
and the small windows. 

Shortly the courtyard became a cockpit. The two 
marble fountains were dyed with blood, and the basin, 
one shaittered, poured out the ruddy tide over the ground. 

Up in the windows gentlemen with fine fowling pieces, 
servants with the furniture converted into projectiles, and 
guardsmen showered all that would wound and maim on 
the intruders, although they were in some cases grappling 
with defenders whose rage had carried them too far out. 

Soon marksmanship was useless, for the patio was 
choking with smoke and dust. The large wads of the 
blunderbusses, entering the windows, had set the curtains 
and arras in flame. Some hung, smouldering, out of the 
casements, whence the sashes had been torn, and by these 
burning ladders the assailants entered the first floor. 

The interior began to be shambles. 

Ribero, Braganza’s secretary and lieutenant, knowing 


266 Tapping the Volcano, 

the palace, guided another column. He was one of the 
first to (acquire a 'footing in the corridor. In his brigade 
were Brothers of the Coast with boarding hatchets and 
boat hooks, (which uo door or barrier could resist. 

“Portugal cried the gentlemen rebels. 

“For our own hands shouted the sailors. 

Indeed, the ensign of these strangers in Lisbon was 
two hands enclasped on a white field waved with blue; 
enough of the arm was shown to present the bared one 
as the sailor’s, the one in a sleeve was the fisher’s. 

In the north wing, the governor-general was living. 
It was Vasconsellos. One of his officers came out on 
the landing, where the axes had shivered a door, and 
challenged the infuriates. 

“We are driving out our tyrants!” they deigned to 
explain. 

A magistrate who had been closeted with the governor 
came up beside the officer. It was the police chief, 
Soarez. His studied speech was rendered inaudible by 
the clamor. 

“Long live the Duke of Braganza! our own king! 
Death to all tyrants!” 

He and the officer madly hurled a “Long live the King 
of Spain!” but before they could draw back they were 
pulled down; their coat and robe were ripped off, and 
they were trampled under foot. As the rioters surged 
over them, pistol shots were fired at the bodies, but soon 
all were swept up to the closed inner doors. 

Palleria, Vasconsellos’ captain of guards, urged his 
master to escape by the back stairs, but the assaulting 
party were hammering on the last barricade while they 
were arguing. 

“Fly to the Corregidor’s,” said the captain; “it is 
manned and stored to hold out for an age !” 

He had no idea that this chosen stronghold for the ul- 
timate stand was already in the hands of Pedro and the 
fishers. 

The governor-general stole out as the mob tore in, 
spread over the room and, making “an olla podridaf* of 
the furniture, books and papers, as record says, probed all 
nooks, cut open coffers and trunks to make sure the hated 


Tapping the Volcano. 267 

one was not hidden, and pierced the walls for secret re- 
ceptacles. 

In a back room they found an old servant, white with 
terror. Between two pistols to his ears, he pointed to a 
clothespress ; with axes the two doors were split, and, 
•with the gaffs, the oppressor was drawn forth. He had , 
collapsed, though brave on earlier occasions ; he had not! 
the voice to implore mercy. 

Transfixed on spears and swords, he was flung out of 
the window. I 

“The tyrant is no more! So be it with his master!”, 
was the cry. “Hail to our rights again! Liberty for- 
ever ! Long live our own Don Juan !” 

At this juncture, Captain Pedro arrived with his men; 
he had left the Corregidor’s, turned into a prison for his 
own captivity, and overawing that part of the town, the 
fishers garrisoned it. At the northeastern corner his men 
deposited a barrel of powder, setting fire to it with a red 
fire stick. A portion of the wall was leveled. All en- 
tered at the breach, ten times the seamen’s number ; they 
were carried on by the accession to their ranks, like corks 
on a freshet. In the yard they had a glimpse of a redi 
shuttlecock with which madmen were playing ; it was the 
remains of Vasconsellos. 

The vice-queen’s apartments were invaded by a third 
column. Its leader had sagely added a number of fisher- 
women to his cohort to handle the lady without ac- 
cusation of ungallantry. 

This representative of Philip was the Princess Mar- 
garita of Savoy. Her advisor was Don Carlos of Ar- 
ragon, to whom she had refused to listen since he spoke 
of submission. He now pleaded that she must retire in- 
doors and not breast the insults of women. But she 
came forward, with the Archbishop of Lisbon at her side, 
in spite of her desiring to be alone, and her trembling 
ladies at her back. 

She was haughty, cold and feelingless, like a princess 
confronting the baseborn. 

“Sirs,” said she, ignoring the fishfags and addressing 
the leaders with swords and in spurs, “I confess that 
Vasconsellos has exceeded orders and humanity. It was 
justly that popular hate and indignation fell. When the 


268 Tapping the Volcano. 

subjects’ love weakens, the king’s power is no longer 
Strong.’^ 

“Vasconsellos is dead! and in as many scraps as the 
death warrants he signed 1” said a voice, grimly. “He 
said, the last time he was remonstrated with about grind- 
ing the people, that his heart was with his king alone. 
Now, I am going to send his heart on to the Escurial to 
be with King Philip 1” 

Margerita turned pale, for this Ben Hamet de Lastries 
was a Moor and a Portuguese who hated the Spanish and 
all foreigners, with double cause. But her voice was as 
steadfast as ever. 

“Chevalier, having slain him, your animosity ought to 
be assuaged. If you do not at once retire you will be 
held guilty of high treason, and I shall be out of power 
to absolve you of the crime before our dread sovereign, 
the king.” 

“You are out of power already,” said one Menezez, who 
had been a secretary of hers, “so many gentlemen and the 
highest of the old nobility of Portugal have not risen in a 
body to take the life of one spoiler, for revenge, but to 
place on the head rightfully entailed the crown of our 
dear land ! Long live Don Juan IV., our Sehor of Por- 
tugal I” 

The Savoyard understood before this defiance that she 
had no sway over these lawless ones. But she was not 
disconcerted. She harbored a belief that her presence 
and apt speech might control the populace. She proposed 
going out on the plaza. 

Several nobles, not all Spanish, threw themselves 
across her path. Her maids locked hands to stay her. 

“What can the people do to me?” she cried, passion- 
ately and without abatement of her insolent contempt. 

There was a silence. Plainness was exacted to con- 
vince this proud princess who had never heard it, per- 
haps. Portuguese or Spanish nobles and gentry, all 
shrank from this step. 

“What will they do? They will cut off your head, 
ma donna said a voice, in Italian, wholly strange to her, 
as to all else. 

She looked, like the rest, that way. A man in showy 
attire, impaired by the shocks of combat, towered a head 


Tapping the Volcano. 269 

and shoulders over the others ; he was leaning on a sword 
which, in another, would have required two hands to 
wield it. It was D’Artagnan’s brother musketeer. 

Outside rang a tremendous burst of triumph ; clarions, 
bugles, fishermen’s horns, whistles commingled. It was 
silence called for on all sides. 

In this perfect quiet arose a voice, hoarse and strong — 
that of Admiral Pedro (at least, the Frenchman knew 
it) ; he had followed Colonel Jorge so closely that he was 
at his heels. In his presence the fishers of the Tagus 
bowed low. 

“Hear ye,” said the seaman, “in the name of the nobles, 
the gentle folk and the people — the people — the people! 
I proclaim the Duke of Braganza Juan IV., king of free 
and independent Portugal!” 

The cheering was deafening — not for Juan, the nobles 
or the gentry, but for “free and independent Portugal !” 

Then came a thunderpeal which made all quake. Ten 
thousand firearms were discharged in the air ; they were 
wanted to kill no longer! 

“An Italian?” queried the princess, of Porthos, clutch- 
ing at a straw. 

“No, madame; French!” 

“Save me!” After her proud front, the weakness of 
her sex came. Besides, her native tongue had softened 
her, where all were so alien. The din and fusillade had 
daunted her. 

“Hark !” said- Porthos, in his best Portuguese, “the fort 
is firing on the town ! This palace will be abolished !” 

Poor Porthos! he meant to say “demolished,” but, to 
the mass, a ponderous word has its effect, despite its 
meaning. The gravity of the crisis was not questioned. 
A panic seized most, and the building was vacated of the 
inqui:,itive and the coarser grained. Floors and stairs 
shook under the countless feet, and out of the windows 
poured files of the frightened. 

“You have saved me!” said the princess, startled by 
the exodus. 

Her maids fell at Porthos’ feet, sobbing, with southern 
extravagance. 

Porthos passed his large hand over his eyes ; never in 
his dreams, when he was vainglorious about his con- 


270 Tapping the Volcano. 

quests, had he pictured himself surrounded by kneeling 
beauty. He stood, the hub of radiant spokes. 

“But the multitude may return!” stammered a cham- 
berlain. 

An hour ago, they would have been “that scum.” 

“They are returning, the misguided people,” said an- 
other. 

“Madame, here is a taible,” said the musketeer, and he 
shoved several dead bodies off the overturned board and 
righted it. “Pen, ink! Write, lady: ^Governor: Ca- 
pitulate !’ ” 

“Never!” began the princess, her obstinacy returning. 

“Wise counsel,” whispered an old clerk, whose white 
head was matted with blood. 

“Or every Spaniard in Lisbon will fatten the fishes !” 
said Pedro, who perceived the Frenchman’s aim. 

Porthos looked at the vice-queen, twirling his mus- 
tache as if he had heretofore been irresistible. 

The Savoyard looked at this giant in the gaudy dress 
which only a Portuguese or a mountebank should have 
worn, concluded that it covered a great commander who 
had the will and the wit to move the masses, and, without 
understanding why she should cause pity, wrote as he 
dictated. Her signature was perfect with all its flour- 
ishes. 

The old clerk countersigned and set the seal upon it; 
he would have finished off a court document though the 
earth yawned. 

“Now, madame,” said Porthos, taking the paper, “get 
out of the barriers as soon as you can !” 

Their colloquy in Italian was an enigma to the others. 

“Because the citadel will fire in spite of my orders ?” 

“Sooth, no! We took the citadel long since! the his- 
toric mule laden with gold !” 

Striding to the nearest window, he and Pedro stood in 
it, on the sill, and the sailor-general showed the paper. 

“Brothers,” said he, “of the coast and the country, the 
vice-queen yields to your wishes ! This spikes the citadel 
guns ! A cheer for the Lady of Savoy, returning to her 
own country!” 

A few careless shouts arose; but they might be in re- 


Tapping the Volcano. 271 

lief for the removal of the bugbear of all fortified towns ; 
the dread that the city would be destroyed by its guns. 

“On my head, you will be rewarded,” said the de- 
throned lady to Du Vallon, who bowed and kissed her 
hand before her ladies hurriedly bore her away, like 
swans surrounding Leda. 

“I would rather have a better security, pretty as it is !” 
he muttered, dubious about royal memories. “But what 
will D’Artagnan say to this? Bah, he is in love — no 
woman is strange to him!” 

He put the state paper in his doublet, useless though 
it was and examined the scene at ease. 

Out on the square, carpenters were raising a stage, 
scaffold or dais, for execution or a coronation? 

“They are much alike!” mused he. 

Here and there, men with swart faces, nervous ac- 
tion and rapid glances, were carrying bags; wayfarers 
shunned them at a warning whisper going before. 

“Are they going to blow up the chief houses? Woe 
to the land where the nobles are the assessors and the 
gentry the collectors !” 

They were firework-makers, going to set up the frames 
for parti-colored artifices to celebrate the victory and the 
entry of the new monarch. 

The universal cry was : “Long live Don Juan IV. !” 

“This is all very fine. Everything in my country ends 
with a song and dance — here, with a bonfire! Tastes 
differ! But what has become of my friends while I 
have been overturning a rule — or, at least, the king’s 
vice ?” 

Pedro was collecting his men. As for Don Jorge, 
Porthos could not be expected to worry about him — a 
married man, he might not love him for his sister’s sake ! 

“My good angel was my valet to put this coat on !’^ said 
Porthos, complacently remembering the bevy of maids 
of honor. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

TO SAVE THE QUEEN. 

During this exciting episode, the Royal Musketeer was 
deep in the labyrinth, boring, like work of the white ant, 
the foundations of Marianda House. More familiar with 
it, Donna Jacinta had come out at the lower end with her 
saib'le maid ; it was in the summerhouse. In its principal 
room was the Duchess of Braganza. She had ridden 
from the rebel headquarters on a pillion, to the gates 
and entered like a humble fugitive. A sailor, awaiting 
her, had guided her to this refuge. 

“I hope your highness has not been uneasy or fatigued 
in my absence?'' said the young lady. “I know this 
house is very simple. It was here my mother retired for 
her ‘retreat,' and she did away with the pretty vanities 
of fountains and flowers. It was never destined to re- 
ceive a queen !" 

“Pray, do not use a title before it is consecrated," re- 
proved La Braganza, playfully. “This is a palace to the 
accommodations along the road, and to the hostel of 
the Petrel!" 

“At least," continued Jacinta, “it can offer what palaces 
do not always contain — loyal hearts and devoted spirits 1" 

“What news?" 

“The people are having the word passed that their 
lights will be restored them, the traders that tolls and 
custom duties will be lightened, the Lisbonese that trade 
will go no more to Madrid." 

“Nothing new of Don Juan?" 

“Madame, there are fears that fanatics will try to as- 
sassinate him! Those in charge of his precious health 
are on their guard. They have determined to baffle them; 
three or four coronation suits have been made, and each 
has its place of deposit. But it is here where I count 
upon his coming — the other dressing-rooms are but traps 
for the bravos!" 

“You are a fount of hopefulness, but I doubt more on 
the sill than on the long journey to the goal!" 


To Save the Queen. 273 

“Yes, my heart is full of hope! I doubt nothing 
now !” 

“Is it hope alone that swells it?” Then, seeing a 
blush, however promptly subdued, she significantly 
added : “One of the first things we shall do is relieve 
you of that stigma of being a waive.” 

“Gnat stings?” sneered Jacinta, haughtily as a 
duchess, or this duchess. “I have no need of the 
Church !” 

“Nay, the finest entry into society is by the altar aisle !” 

“Marriage, do you mean? This is no time to talk of 
such things!” 

“Well, I think of others, no longer about myself. All 
have your confidence. The valiant Don Lasquez de 
Peleta accompanied me to the gates, where we were re- 
ceived by the Mellos. With them at the door, I feel 
tranquil.” 

“There are more. Menezez, who comes from the 
palace, where all resistance is terminated — I might say 
exterminated — brings word that my lord duke must be 
within the walls, but he does not know how ushered in.” 

“Well guarded, then; but I could wish those two en- 
ergetic Frenchmen were with us.” 

“I cherish half your wish!” 

“Ah, I shot close! Your chosen half is not the mar- 
ried one?” 

“Does he not, at times, look it? How odd that so 
valorous a knight could be some woman’s meacock!” 

“Adystery of matrimony!” said the duchess, sincerely, 
having not the faintest notion that she was called a 
Xantippe. “Did you find your road to this pleasant 
refuge as unimpeded as I?” 

“I had only one hinderance, but it was serious. In a 
crowd I nearly ran into my brother’s arms ” 

“Count Marianda*^?” 

“He is colonel now! Would be general if his side 
won, which all disprove!” 

“He is with Philip, eh?” 

“Dyed ingrain, as we say on the plains.” 

“Ran into his arms, did you ? A very proper place !” 

“Sometimes ! But I plucked myself from his embrace, 
as an enemy’s.” 


274 To Save the Queen. 

'‘But he recognized you ?’' 

“I hope not. I was in this peasant’s dress!” 

"How dreadful if he had snuffed out this very flame 
of insurrection!” 

"No, no! your highness is the flame! I am the can- 
dleholder ! I am standing yet ! I shook him off and I 
left him transfixed to the spot !” 

"Transfixed with disappointment, or the dagger which 
the virtuous peasant maiden wears?” 

"With disappointment in the first place ; but, after, with 
a swordthrust in the arm !” 

"If you had a Brother of the Coast with you ” 

"Well, a new brother. Affiliated with them, and a 
great friend of Captain Pedro. But I will descant later 
about my deliverer.” 

"Why not at once ? plenty of time ! When I ask a 
boon for him I want him amply to deserve it !” 

"While the unknown cavalier disarmed your brother, 
you ran here to make me welcome! I thank you! 
Palace or villa, my house is always open to you in re- 
turn. But if your brother is at hand?” 

"This house is quite detached from the mansion. Be- 
sides, his military duties must keep him from home. 
Let me go, sure of that as well as other matters. Mark, 
your highness is in safety here. Supposing danger came, 
you could flee by a secret way into the main building, as 
I will show you. Those nobles are in call. Strike this 
African gong and at each stroke a defender will appear !” 

She took the princess’ hand to kiss it, as if it were a 
queen’s, but the other repulsed her, and, drawing her to 
her, kissed her in a sisterly way. 

The adorable fanatic for the new royalty blushed and 
left the room. 

"Most charming of creatures!” ejaculated the duchess. 
"To think that where calculation and genius fail, the 
heart finds the way. I am in our capital, thanks to that 
darling above all. When I have flagged, she has spurred 
me ! But, a waive ! they were partly right — she is not of 
this sordid world! So, she loves? and a marvelous 
kni'ght ! one who makes you shudder with his inexhausti- 
ble devices and strength to carry them out ! That will 


To Save the Queen. 275 

anchbr our sprite to the earth. It was easy to guess — ^this 
Gannarta — ^that is, D’Artagnan! redoubtable chevalier!” 

“At your grace’s service!” 

The voice was at her elbow — the speaker kneeling at 
her feet. 

“I am delighted I :am called ! Then, there is danger 
nigh !” 

“Strange apparition !” 

“Lisbon is prolific with apparitions! Don Sebastian 
has appeared !” 

“On the city walls?” 

“And within them^ — ihe has saved a whole nunnery 
from a mob and eke a visiting prelate, who happened to 
be in the way ! but there are other goblins ! My friend 
Porthos, who has never seen a ghost, had his incredulity 
shaken last night! He saw one, black as the Africans!” 

“And you, who are always with him ?” 

“'I was hunting spirits of another hue ! Mine shrinks 
from appearing bodily — sl spirit can manifest itself bod- 
ily !” 

“Was it one of those agreeable spirits who communi- 
cate with us by music ” 

“No, madame, its medium was writing! Not on a vul- 
gar scrap of paper, with liquid soot on the tip of a 
skewer — nay, nay! but with a diamond — emblem of light! 
on crystal — in a word, my spirit wrote to me on a mir- 
ror!” 

“Sir, I shall believe I am to be queen, not over Portu- 
gal, but the land of the Fata Morgana !” 

“Oh, my lady, even fairyland has its counterweights. 
To the fays, the elves and the sylphs are opposed the 
gnomes, demons and imps. Now, that your grace’s rest, 
of which she stands in need, may not be disturbed by any 
of these, I beseech her to go to a safer resort by this un- 
known door ” 

He opened the secret panel by which he had slipped in. 

His tone and text were airy, but his look was solemn. 

“I came by it, so that I know,, while devious, it is safe. 
You need not carry a light. There will be unassailable 
solitude until you have the company you desire.” 

He put a candlestick into her resistless hand. This 
man had such a way, even convincing to queens. 


276 To Save the Queen. 

can depend on your sending the duke?’^ 

“As on my being between you and danger! Lisbon 
rages I hark I but there may be enemies nearer home 

She hesitated a little. He was accusing those on whom 
she relied — old upholders, proven friends! 

“In that main building, whence all the menials have 
been withdrawn, the rooms you will reach are barri- 
caded.” 

“Do you suspect something?” She pointed to the par- 
tition. 

“In rebellion I suspect all ! But some one comes ” 

“It may be the duke ” 

“Not with that fox’s step! Your lord marches proudly 
now. Go, your grace, if you would be styled majesty! 
Next time that is how I shall have the honor to address 
)^u ! Remember, it is my place to guard your grace, as 
captain of the Royal Guards.” 

Respectful and imperious, odd mixture ! La Braganza 
nodded grateful without knowing for what, and dived 
into the outlet, warmed by a sudden thought. The door 
glided to behind her, so swiftly that D’Artagnan, who was 
not listening to her, could not hear her murmur : 

“I have no fear that he will play me foul who loves my 
maid !” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE MARPLOT. 

^'Who the plague has separated her from her lord when 
never in their linked career ought they have been parted 
less I’’ meditated the envoy of Cardinal Richelieu, taking 
the vacated chair with ease, but listening all the ^hile in 
the opposite direction to that she had taken. “There 
is a counterplot in operation.*’ 

“I wish that Jacinta were here! If we could lay our 
heads together, light would sparkle out as when amber is 
chafed. Peradventure, if there be underplay, they have 
secured the maid before the mistress 

Invigorated by this fear, keener than any misgiving 
on the duchess’ head, he left his chair, and, mousing a 
little in the tapestry, found a chink in the partition. It 
might have originated naturally in the old warping wood, 
but he had no doubt that the cranny had been enlarged 
by a spy. In great houses few hear any good of them- 
selves, and they listen to have warning. 

This crevice commanded a view of the other room, 
where, at a long table, some men sat jauntily upon its 
edge, some sedately around it. 

Two or three of these persons he had seen, at a dis- 
tance, at Oporto. The others were strangers to him, but 
he had no doubt that they were high placed at court. 
There was nothing so ominous in them, but they had 
thrown off their capes and cloaks so as to be free to 
move in close just-au-corps, narrow trunks and hose; 
those who wore shoes of soft leather under their riding 
boots had discarded the latter. It was one of these who 
had softly approached the door to listen. 

They had stacked their long swords against the wall, 
and carried short hunting knives, daggers and fine pisto- 
lets. But everybody has such arms at this crisis. 

The watcher was not allowed a prolonged scrutiny. 

The one who had singled himself out from the body by 
common consent, and listened at the door, tapped at it. 


278 The Marplot. 

and, as D’Artagnan coming out of his hiding-place made 
no answer, he walked in. 

It was one Don Pablo de Riqueza. He was nicknamod 
'‘the Count by Surprise.” He was a penniless cadet 
when the loss of all that debarred him from a title and 
estate perished by a holocaust. An upset log on a mon- 
strous saint’s-day fire, enflamed a house where a family 
reunion took place and all his kin disappeared ini the 
flames. He became count in a trice. 

But never had the Count by Surprise experienced the 
emotion seizing him when, instead of the Duchess of 
Braganza, he saw a man alone in the chamber. 

“A man w'hom I do not know !” he muttered, drawing 
back hesitatingly. “Not the Count of Marianda, I think ! 
one of his household? In that case, a royalist like him. 
A swordsman, surely! a foreigner, on a second look! 
We are overburdened with these captains of adventure 
— they scent the battle! Where has the duchess gone? 
These old houses are perforated with hidden ways! I 
had mine rebuilt ! and I will recommend the count to do 
the same. This is some hireling! seeking hand money 
to enlist ! He gets no pay under the Spaniard — >he will 
take from ours, or any purse !” 

D’Artagnan was whistling a camp song between his 
teeth. 

“Hem, captain !” at a venture. 

They bowed stiffly, yet the Frenchman seemed easy, 
here at home. 

“It is a Marianda, I guess — a foster-brother or side- 
scion. I know no end of cousins claimed me as their own 
when I took my place as the head of the hoiise ! Fortu- 
nately, I have the password to touch the stone ! ‘Bragan- 
za, Madrid and Lisbon !’ ” Then, raising his voice out of 
his monologue, he inquired : 

“Could I learn of your lordship what star we live un- 
der?” 

“To be truthful, we live under no star at this hour, it 
is a planet, the Moon!” replied the other as simply as 
Porthos might have done. 

“This is one outside our Cause,” thought the Portu- 
guese. 

“Politeness for jx>liteness, is there anything more to 


The Marplot. 279 

learn? Yet, I warn your lordship that I am not overfond 
of questions 

“Only two others, of little consequence. I am Don 
Pablo de Riqueza, and. occupy this pavilion in part. May 
I know your name and how I find you here ?” 

“You find me here without my having been for a single 
instant lost ! As for my name, I am puzzled, for in these 
times one changes so many things that a name is not un- 
varying. Still,. I am for the moment the Caballero de 
Gannarta, of old Cantabrian stock !” 

“Oh, old Spanish to the core 

“That depends on the site. At present, Lisbon is rest- 
less under the Spanish blister-fly !” 

“That sounds sharp — you ought to be cautions 

“Yes, I am the most incautious of speakers — -frank- 
ness and openness are my defects ! My friend Count 
Jorge tells me so.^’ 

“Oh, if Don Jorge is a friend of yours you are a true 
Spaniard ” 

“I have the honor to drink with him 
‘^Ah r 

“Eat with him r 

“Oh r 

“And fight with him V* 

“Good ! A man who fights with the Count of Mari- 
anda mus/t be true to the king ! He is a follower of the 
Military Governor — you must be for the Govern- 
ment ” 

“I am for all established governments !” 

“I am surprised, then, that you are not in the company 
of our dear Don Jorge, who, I saw with these, my eyes, 
departing with his servitors to reinforce the defend- 
ers ” 

“He went forth to deliver the Corregidor and his colo- 
nels, but they are delivered now."’ 

“Then they would be on the road to take the 
usurper ” 

“Unless they are on that to Madrid ’’ 

“Why to Madrid?” 

“For help to recapture Lisbon.” 

“(I did not know that it was captured.” 

“It is and it is not ! The garrison have handed over 


28 o 


The Marplot. 

itfhe fort and the walls to the train band, while the officials 
and the nobles take to the public buildings and mansions 
to defend, each in his own guise. Don Jorge, for ex- 
ample, will defend Marianda House. I am his lieutenant 
to do so.” 

“A good idea!” 

“I thought you would approve. Only, as one thing 
may serve two purposes, I thought that the house, while 
a castle, might serve another end.” 

“That is called killing two birds with one stone I” 

“Oh, I do not want to kill the birds. I shall sell them.” 

“What birds?” thinking this man was an entertaining 
but perplexing discourser. 

“Crested ones ! Did you ever see a cat catch birds ?” 

“I never noticed.” 

“Oh, it is worth noticing to apply the system to catch- 
ing royal game.” 

The count frowned, puzzled. 

“A cat does not rush at a nest and claw at the first 
head presented!” 

“No?” 

“She waits aibout and catches the ■little ones as they 
fall, ripe! Then comes the turn of the parents. But 
she does not snap at them indiscriminately, either.” 

“No?” 

“Certainly not! If she were to catch the male first, 
the female would ” 

“Pine at the loss !” 

“Or fly away for consolation !” 

“Ah !” 

“So the cat catches the mother bird first, and the mate 
hovers round looking for it, and falls into her jaws, 
fatigued.” 

“So!” 

“Ergo, having secured the Duchess of Braganza in my 
cage — that is, my friend. Count de Marianda’s mansion — 
I ” 

“Oh, it is you who have spirited away the duchess? 
That explains all !” 

“It explains half !” returned the musketeer, smiling 
graciously. “The explanation ol the other half is, I 
think, in your hands, dear count !” 



“ He was turning to flee— to call his friends, there was not a moment 
to be lost.” See page 281. 




The Marplot. 281 

''Oh, you allud^e to the male bird ?” 

"To the duke ! The only way for him to enter my 
trap, since the other door is in the house of an avowed 
royalist, is here, where you and your friends are on 
guard — old friends and ancient adherents whom he could 
not suspect to betray him !” 

"■No, he would not suspect that,” said the traitor, 
dreamily. 

"Then the game is in our hands. That is, I have the 
duchess. You, the duke. It seems to me that we — ^that 
is, I and your league — can make fine terms with either 
the Madridlenese or the Lisbonese.” 

"Wihy with either?” 

"It is plain. The latter want a king and queen; the 
other, these usurpers. I will treat with the Lisbonese 
for their desires. You, with the Philipists for theirs. The 
higher price wins. You are count — you can be marquis ! 
I am a captain of fortune' — shall be a fortuned captain ! 
This is saying nothing of our friends. If yours are em- 
barrassing, sell them in the bulk to the Spanish, while I 
sell my Joseph — ^that is, Jorge — to the Portuguese ” 

"Upon my word, sir, such audacity !” 

''Sapere aude! Audacity is wise!” 

"I — I must consult with my friends,” faltered the 
count. 

It is evident that he feared this proposition coming 
from one whose daring appalled him. 

He was turning tO' flee — to call his friends. There was 
not a moment to be lost; but before he could be run 
through, whatever the musketeer’s celerity, he would 
send up an outcry. To the surprise but happy relief of 
the Frenchman, he suddenly saw the secret door behind 
the count fly open. In the aperture appeared Donna 
Jacinta, who was carrying a fine pistol. Appreciating the 
situation, from having been listening, she clapped this 
to the head of the Portuguese, and he, hearing the click 
of the door, slightly revolved his head. In consternation, 
his opening mouth let out not even a breath. 

With the rapidty of lightning, D’ Artagnan stuffed his 
own cravat into his mouth, laid hands on him, disarmed 
him, bound him with his sword belt and scarf, and rolled 
him under a divan in the corner. 


282 


The Marplot. 

Taking the pistol from Jacinta and thrusting it into his 
Lelt, he said to her, in a low voice : 

“We are beset !” 

“And Don Juan will be walking right into the thick 
oif themi What are we to do?’’ 

“A great deal ; and you can do much of 

She was so brave, proud and eager that he knew he 
had a promising acolyte. 

“The duchess being safe above stairs, let us save the 
duke.’" 

“But these traitors will not let me pass!” 

“Yes, they will, thinking that you go — not to warn 
my lord, but to bring up your broliier’s regiment to take 
the prize. Say that Count What’s-His-Name has ar- 
ranged all and that you acquiesce ini your brother’s 
wishes I” 

“But they will still wait for the duke ” 

“Say he is here — slipped in by another way !” 

“The duke is here ?” 

“His clothes are; you yourself said it; and the clothes 
make the man — ^why not the king?” 

“Inventive rogue that you are!” 

“Would I look the king?” 

“In my eyes you are a demigod! In that closet, all 
laid out, complete to the shoe buckles! But you won’t 
let the coronation suit overexcite you, will you?” 

“At times even Gascons are cool!” 

“Oh, Heaven watches over us !” 

“I prefer Olympus ” 

“\yhy, you heathen?” 

“Because that had Cupid in it !” 

“Love be our guard, then!” 

“The countersign, and you pass!” and, seizing her 
hand, he kissed it. 

She fluttered away, and, composing herself at the door, 
entered among the cross-plotters, calm and radiant. 

“The count?” queried they, rising hotly, for the con- 
spirator stands on coals. 

“It is done ! Don Juan is in our hands !” 

“The duke?” 

“And the duchess. He joined her by the other way — 


The Marplot. 283 

througih our bouse ! Do you not know me ? The Lady 
o'f Floriador ” 

'‘But you?” 

“I am no more what I was. My brother has persuaded 
me of my wrong course ; besides, no one could bring as 
redemption so good a price as the duke’s head! I am 
going to fetch my brother from the Corregidor’s with his 
regiment I Ah, he will be a duke, and you all made 
men I” 

Joyously she passed through them and left by the outer 
door. 

They stared at one another as though a comet had 
streamed among them. 

"The count was in collusion with the Mariandas,” said 
one. 

"Well, gentlemen,” said another, an old man, "I owed 
my marquisate to Don Juan’s interest at Madrid. I 
would rather not huddle him away with my own hands ! 
If my varlets can be of any use ” 

"And I, Count d’Exilis, pestered with numerous syco- 
phants, I never asked this Braganza for an office but he 
found the letters-patent. It would not look well for me 
to take him by the sleeve and hand him over to the 
butchers ” 

"And d,” said a third, "when I was in Toledo Castle, 
in the Inquisition’s grip, for having, unwittingly, heret- 
ical tomes in my library — which, thank God I I could not 
read 1 — he obtained my liberation, when, too, the fire was 
blazing on the plaza for me ! Now, it is not for me to 
call the Spanish in to apprehend him I” 

"I see,” said still another, ironically, but as backward 
as any of them, "none of us itch to be the actual giver of 
the betraying kiss. Come,” looking out of a little win- 
dow commanding a peep of the garden gateway, open on 
the side street, "why not employ that citizen soldier yon- 
der, who accompanied us from the gates to make sure 
that our horses would be delivered to the Spanish Com- 
mander of Horse? A captain of militia arresting our 
sworn liege will not compromise us as would our squires, 
lackeys, or, a/bove all, ourselves.” 

"Viazma is right I but yet, a trainband sergeant to ar- 
rest a duke, a prince, all but a king!” 


284 The Marplot. 

'Tush! The touch will ennoble the villain! Butt we 
must dispatch, or,” sarcastically, “Don Jorge will be 
brought up by his sister and we shall be outraced in this 
contest to sell our prize !” 

“The king at Madrid will weigh us down with guer- 
dons. I have news direct from there that he has not slept 
of nights since Don Juan escaped from his ships! We 
shall have enough and to spare among us !” 

Thus reassured, they let Viazma call in the town sol- 
dier to execute their orders. 


CHAPTER XXXVIL 

AS THE KNIGHT^ SO HIS SQUIRE. 

Donna Jacinta lingered at the corner to see that she 
was not pursued ; on the contrary, one of the courtiers 
called in the mililtiaman. She hastened, then, to com- 
municate with the Brothers of the Coast, interspersed 
with the citizens, and notify Don Juan to change his des- 
tination. 

About the same time D’Artagnan dressed himself, 
with little attention to strictness, in the special suit which 
he found. Unlike Porthos’ purchase from the beadle, his 
suit was easy, but, on the whole, was a fit. Besides, the 
trimmings aided the illusion of royalty. It was an 
Utrecht velvet, lustrous in its black dye, spangled with jet 
and pointed with crystal drops, tipped with pearls; in 
the saffron beaver, with one flap looped up with a gem, 
floated noble ostrich and heron plumes; the gold spurs 
were large, in the Portuguese fashion; the baldric was 
white leather mounted on silk ribbon; a sash was of 
scarlet and gold thread. 

He left the ornamental sword in the chased, beaten 
gold scabbard, content to hang his own under his left 
armpit. The full cloak of ruby velvet, fringed with gold, 
concealed this and' half his person. 

He looked at the pistol of which he had relieved 
Jacinta, and smiled. 

*‘il saw it was not primed; but it is not loaded! Oh, 
those women have faith; an empty pistol should kill, in 
their hands 

He looked himself over. 

“By my fay 1 Porthos and I have shed our cocoons, 
and I believe he would envy me I” 

As he stepped out of the cabinet, a soldier was enter- 
ing the larger room. He had his sword drawn. 

“Duke, your sword,” said this man, bluntly and yet 
with respect. 

The honor thrust upon him made him tremble. 


286 As the Knight, so His Squire. 

'‘Are you addressing me, sirrah!” cried D’Artagnan, 
seeing that he had to do with an amateur apprehender of 
noble offenders. 

“I ought to say ‘sire,’ ” stammered the poor man, .think- 
ing he resented his oversight. The splendid dress did 
its work. As a draper, he knew that only princes could 
array themselves in velvet at a doubloon the Flemish eli. 
“All resistance is useless, for I am in force without. 
Your sword, if you please, my prince I” 

“Are you not well enough armed to do without my 
sword ?” 

“He jokes,” thought the sergeant; “oh, we have an 
easy catch here !” Then he added, aloud : “Your sword !” 

“You do not seem partial to a little parley ” 

“Not in these times, sire, when the fluctuations out- 
number those of the Tagus in the spring floods. At any 
time the town, which is nobody’s, may be somebody 
el'se’s ! Your sword, or ” 

“Oh, well, since you are so set upon it, take it I” and 
the Gascon tendered him the court blade. 

“Kindly wrap your cloak round you, for the smoke 
will taint your doublet — astonishing how smoke lays the 
nap in velvet ! The mob has fired a house or two, I be- 
lieve ! Then, to the palace I” 

“Any particular palace?” asked D’Artagnan, merrily; 
“for the vice-regal one surrendered to the mob, as you 
call the patriotic citizens, long ago.” 

“Has that gone ? Then, to the citadel !” 

“Are you truly of Lisbon, not to know it was occu- 
pied by my friends over night?” 

“But the Corregidor’s ” 

“The House of Correction has been corrected, knocked 
into a cocked hat by Messrs. Tag, Rag and Bobtail.” 

“Then to 'the next watchhouse !” 

“Is not that too abrupt a transition from the steps of 
a throne ? But one moment ; what is your post ?” 

“I am sergeant of the town militia, at your majesty’s 
esteemed service!” 

“Arrest me by a sergeant? Your employers have no 
idea of etiquette ! I make you a captain ! It ill consorts 
with one like me to yield up sword and liberty to a sub- 


As the Knight, so His Squire. 287 

officer ! If you must lodge me, be it befittingly to your 
present rank — if not to mineT’ 

He followed the promoted trainband man like a poodle. 

In the outer room the Portuguese nobles lingered, but 
they averted their eyes not to meet the reproachful gaze 
of him they had abandoned at his altitude. All they 
saw was the superfine costume, and the magnificent 
sword, carried triumphantly by the militia sergeant. 

“Whither am I to conduct him? All places are in 
somebody’s hands !” said the puzzled man. 

“Any stronghold. Hasten !” 

“But they won’t take us in!” objected he, piteously. 

“Fool I the retired garrison is encamped on the Madrid 
rood, just by the gate. Surround him with all your sol- 
diers and lose no time. On the way you should meet Don 
Jorge de Marianda, to whom you can transfer your 
charge !” 

At the garden outlet the sergeant found his men, rest- 
less, timorous. From the uproar around them they were 
still unable to tell whether the pyrotechnics would cele- 
brate the expected prince’s elevation or downfall. 

“To the Spanish camp, Madrid Gate !” said the officer, 
quickly. 

He congratulated himself on having the opportunity 
which comes only once to an ambitious clothworker or 
others. Not for the world would he have his men guess 
what captive he w'as hurrying out of the city; not for 
twice as much would he have met Don Jorge or any one 
likely to wrest the palm from him. A captain, already ! 
why, his reward at this rate, would make his fellow- 
wardsmen green with envy. He saw himself draper to 
the court — of Juan or Philip — as he should contrive it. 

Familiar with the ways, they reached the wall by a 
short route. The petty gate of the basket weavers’ lane 
was guarded by acquaintances; they passed through, 
with a joke about the fine tailor’s model they had dressed 
up for a patron to choose his wedding garment by. 

Within the hour D’Artagnan was lodged in a marquee 
in the Spanish encampment. To prevent injudicious ex- 
citement, only the principals were informed of the iden- 
tity of the capture. It caused a deep and varied debate. 
The Spanish commander, bribed to quit the citadel, 


288 As the Knight, so His Squire. 

thought that his remuneration only covered this with- 
drawal to without the walls; if he could dispose of his 
forces in as high a market, he was not loth. With the 
chief of the party to which he was already indebted 
within his lines, he could make excellent conditions. 

Unlike his hosts, all in stimulation, D’Artagnan called 
for refreshment, partook of it in solitary state, serene as 
a mummy of Pharaoh, and slept the whole night 
through. 

“Oh, these monarc’bs !” said the sergeant, as he looked 
in at every watch; “now, a common mortal, between lay- 
ing his head on the pillow and on the block, would not 
sleep a wink ! But he, he just recruits for the long jour- 
ney. I hope he will be removed to Madrid, if the king 
is to deal with him, and have time to get my commission 
signed and sealed. Ah, me ! sovereigns’ promises are but 
piecrust; but even the crust of a dream pie is nice eating 
to a poor fellow whose dreams have always risen no 
higher than his counter !” 

When his prisoner woke up, his jailer had a fine re- 
past waiting. African maize in cakes, done on an ashen 
fire, guinea fowls with cream and honey, fruit in pro- 
fusion, and steaming chocolate, so thick that a finger of 
bread stood up in it, and, indeed, it was eaten, then, as a 
kind of butter. 

“Poor ruler!” said the warder; “he has no rule over 
his gullet! That is eating like one who knows not 
whence comes the succeeding meal !” 

“I suppose nobody has asked after me?” inquired the 
captive, like one who has said good-by to the false, 
falling-ofif world. 

“Yes, the Spanish officers of the night, they questioned 
me every change of guard.” 

“I alluded to the messengers of a lady !” 

“Oh, the duchess?” 

“She would not 'be fool enough to venture faithful 
servants here!” 

“Stop ! While there were no court ladies, no one with 
the air of being a princess’ go-between, we had one poor, 
lubberly fellow, blubbering in the early hours. He is a 
huge lump, with a voice like to blow the tents over ! He 
has only two words of Portuguese and three of Span- 


As the Knight, so His Squire. 289 

ish, 'but 'I am used .in my trade to all sorts of outlandish 
talk. I could make out that he had been a squire of your 
lordship’s in the French campaigns ” 

“Oh, you have had my squire ask after me ” 

“Or your porter ; that’s what he said ” 

“It would not be Porthos, would it?” and the captive 
brightened up as a prisoner would at finding that he was 
not utterly ignored. “I think I should like to see a famil- 
iar face.” 

“He takes it very cool,” muttered the sergeant, a little 
set back. “Now, I should jump at the neck of a friend 
w^ho sought me out in prison ! But these monarchs — 
hard as nails ! Well, sire, he is in the by-lanes. The 
Spanish tried to drive him away with their halberds, but, 
being an overgrown moon calf, as I said, he wrenched 
two staves away and snapped them, the two together, 
over his clump of a knee as I would a rush. So they let 
him be, if he would not disturb the sleepers with his 
lamentations.” 

“So this Porthos has been stupidly hanging about out 
there all the night?” asked D’Artagnan, coughing, for 
something out of his breakfast stuck in his throat. 

“All the morning; he just curled up there like one of 
those great Pyrenean sheep dogs, big as a ram !” 

“At the risk of spoiling his — his livery?” 

“His livery — ^the livery of the court of King Dagobert, 
where they go without breeches to save wearing them 
out ! Why, the man is long out of place, I think ! He is 
as soberly clad as the clerk in the priest’s house, where 
the curate licks his spoon !” 

“Porthos, in quiet apparel ! Only for a great purpose 
would Du Vallon shed has gorgeous shell and' rejoin his 
old comrade,” thought D’Artagnan. 

“Captain,” said this mock Don Juan, “I ami used to that 
squire, although he is clumsy compared with a dapper- 
dandy ! He saved my life once in the wars, so I e’en let 
him dingle-dangle about me. If he were at hand to dress 
me 

“Ah, I suppose you great dons can do little with your 
own hands ?” 

“Very little,” sighed the musketeer, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, I wager that he will he as glad as you to meet. 


290 As the Knight, so His Squire. 

Oons ! after five or six hours in the cool morning breeze 
of the river, I doubt not that he will gladly embrace 

“A squire embrace his lord!” protested the sham 
prince, with offended delicacy. 

‘‘Embrace the chance to pacify the wolf in his com- 
missariat department !” laughed the trainband officer. 

The other laughed with him. It is noted that a jailer 
rarely laughs without his charge laughing with him. 

“You shall have his services!” 

“Are there no superior orders, captain?” 

“They forbade you having company! Now, a squire 
is one man, not a company ! Friends are not allowed ; 
but a squire, a varlet — 'Heaven save us! that is not a 
friend!” 

“Rarely !” 

“Besides, we are all soldiers here, and we are above 
clearing away broken victuals, though of a royal hand’s 
breaking.” 

“Very proper! Captain, you argue like a prefect of 
the Congregation of ^cred Doubts and Sophisms ” 

“I do not know 'that gentleman !” 

“The Pope has such an officer to settle all fallacies.” 

The sergeant shook his head. 

“I prefer to be captain, if your highness wills so, and 
oan obtain conifirmation from his 'brother of Spain.” 

“I shall suggest a colonelcy! and my lady shall work 
you the thread-of-gold epaulets, if I have to urge her, at 
longo intervallor 

“After your majesty swears by that oath, I retain no 
fears.” 

With a light and assured step the obliging warden left 
the tent. With as light a one Porthos entered ; 'he had 
cast his beadle’s uniform and now threw off his mien of a 
weeping churl. 

On seeing that they were alone, they rushed into one 
another’s arms, and their breastbones cracked in the 
vehemence of their brotherly hug. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

TH^ IvAST card. 

^‘How is this brought about ?” cried the elder soldier, 
snuffling to hide emotion. ‘‘You leave me going to the 
scuffle with Count Don Jorge, intimating that you wanted 
an interview with his sister first. The next I hear of 
you is from one of those iniquit — I mean, ubiquitous, is 
it not ? — Brothers of the Coast ! He had seen you, capar- 
isoned as a prince, in this same sumptuous silk, satin 
and velvet, with feathers culled from the birds of Para- 
dise. You were borne away, merrily enough, by a squad 
of citizen soldiers. The next I heard was that this cap- 
tured exaltissimo was in the power of the Spanish, 
treated like a king ! this king of ours ! I do not say that 
you do not resemble Don Juan, but it will be carrying the 
likeness too far if you put your dear head under the 
ax ” 

“An ass is always an ass, notwithstanding the har- 
ness \” sighed the captive. “I sometimes doubt that I 
shall ever be wise again while I am in love !” 

“Does the donna want a prince? What do you gain 
by masquerading?” 

“I gain what men would pay diamond weight for — 
time. Thanks to my being in custody — quod, as the 
Arabs say — our lord must have had time to ascend his 
throne.” 

“I believe they are crowning him on the grand plaza 
by this.^^ 

“Have they removed the archbishop's scruples ” 

“Or Captain Pedro would have removed his head.” 

“Then you see how right I was to put on his garb — or 
how right Donna Jacinta was.” 

“Oh ! if it is at her hint, then I have not one word to 
say. Still, Madame du Vallon will not forgive your 
pretty plotter if, when the blind worms discover the error 
and my own cheat, I fall immolated ” 

“It looks so, unless my friend in the camp ” 


292 The Last Card. 

“Oh ! the count ? — to be sure, if he is at hand ” 

“Oh ! he is a fanatic — a Brutus who would sacrifice 
his own table-guest. I speak of a soldier — that civic 
guardsman who let yon in. Your jeremiads softened his 
heart. There was a squire who disguised himself as a 
minstrel to reach his lord prisoned in a castle — but, save 
us ! had he caterwauled like you, the sentinels would 
have stuck him full of quarrels from their cross-bows 
like my lady’s pincushion.” 

“If I had not bellowed, they would not have let me 
sleep, on the condition of silence. But since you have re- 
vived my courage, I will notify the king — since he is 
made king by this time — where his shadow is. Nails 
and hammer ! we will release you.” 

“Wait! you are not released yourself.” 

“Eh?” 

“This wears the semblance of our being fellow-prison- 
ers here.” 

“A prison of canvas.” 

“Ah! but there are civic guards outside.” 

“A fig for the townsmen!” 

“And Spanish pikemen outside them again. Now, 
like you, I detest having handsome clothes spoiled in a 
chance encounter.” 

“Bought out of the fort they could have held a year, 
we can bend their pikes of lead, and their muskets are 
choked with their Judas silver.” 

“They were bought out, but not to lay down their arms. 
That is another bargain. Perhaps Soleiman is not pres- 
ent to make it. A bout of two to ten thousand, and we 
shall not return whole to France, and in glory mundane.” 

“That is true. The Spanish fight well — foot to foot.” 

“So I have made up my mind, since I am king for a 
day, to have all the honors. As we Gascons say: 
'A diac andiro ’ — let us do all things grandly! I shall 
enter my royal capital triumphantly !” 

“This tinsel crown has turned the man’s head, though 
of copper,” said Porthos, sadly. 

“That would please my brother, Pedro, who' said that 
I was not rated up to my value.” 

“You are mad!” 

“It is plain that no knight is a hero to his squire. But 


The Last Card. 293 

cling to my fortunes a little, Squire Porthos, and you will 
see that nothing so meetly rounded off my assumption 
of majesty as my laying it off.” 

‘‘Well, what is a squire’s bounden duty but to obey 
his lord?” 

“Porthos, you may remember, some five or six years 
ago, that a craze overran Paris ” 

“There is always a craze running over Paris; de- 
fine ” 

“A cunning knave filled one part of an hourglass with 
wine and, bidding you take it in your hand, professed to 
tell by the red fluid mounting into the upper and vacant 
cup, how prone you were to the tender passion ” 

“The heat of the hand' ” 

“Made the spirit rise. Porthos, I always said that a 
profound metaphysician was prevented in your taking to 
arms ” 

“That iS' odd! At the age of sixteen, I was seized 
with growing pains which threatened my stature would 
be colossal — otherwise, my mother would have had me 
study for the medical art at Rheims University ” 

“You revivify me by good counsel and good-humor. 
This love-meter, as the rogue styled it, by which one 
pretended to tell the loveableness of the holder, was use- 
less. For my part, I study the progress of a passion by 
the countenance.” 

“For the most part, man does bear his disposition there 
— you are right.” 

“So, studying Master Diego, the trainband sergeant, 
I foretell that disloyalty rises as this muddle thickens. 
When he seized me, oh I with all the courtesy of his race, 
he was lukewarm ; this morning, he was melting.” 

“And to-night?” 

“We shall see what he is by noon. By eve he will be 
a cream curd.” 

“I should like to witness the churning of Master 
Diego.” 

“Hist! he comes, I think.” 

“Halloa! they have allowed you your sword.” 

“They took the royal one, but the old one— -ah, I like it ! 
Where is your Balizarde, by the same token?” 

“To my regret, I had to bury him in the rushes when 


294 The Last Card. 

I cogitated to rejoin you. Ah, well I know what the 
valet feels who has lost his master !” 

‘The Spanish may regret its resuscitation I” 

The civic guard was amiably looking in. 

“These Spanish,” observed he, sharply, “have the rep- 
utation of being the best in Europe ” 

“Of the two semi-spheres,” said D’Artagnan, as af- 
fably. 

“I do not agree. Half of them have strayed over to 
the town, and are clambering up the walls to see what 
is going on.” 

“Strange, indeed, after they were paid to keep out 
of it!” 

“Curiosity pays with a tempting coin.” 

“Then, there is something going on?” 

“Yes, my city is a great one for something going on, 
or coming off.” 

“Yes, when crowns go on and heads come off — it is 
enthralling !” 

Porfhos had concealed D’Artagnan's sword. 

“That is the fault of my squire here^ — devouring curi- 
osity. See his ears prick up? That is your doing. I 
warrant that he will be uneasy and useless until he has 
also seen what is going on over the city wall.” 

“I do not blame him. I, myself ” 

“You are so obliging that I could trespass still far- 
ther on your ceaseless kindness. I suppose you could 
not let my servant go and quench his curiosity ?” 

“Oh ! he came freely — he may go the same,” 

“That is handsome! I — I could almost ask the same 

favor for myself — I am curious ” 

“That is natural, after being brought to the capital, 
to want to know what happens in it!” 

“But your superiors' orders ” 

“Know, sire,” said the “colonel” of his creation, “that 

the Lisbon civic guard take no orders ” 

“From these aliens? Hem! I comprehend and esteem 
you. My faithful squire, take advantage of the good 
colonel's offer, and leaving that old blade, which I sup- 
pose you picked up on the field, sally out for tidings.” 
“You may go,” said the sergeant, loftily. 

Porthos put the sword within his friend’s reach and 


The Last Card. 295 

left the tent. The guards admired his proportions, but 
no one stayed him; besides, as the civic guardsman had 
said, most of the regular soldiers, who were Portuguese, 
or who had friends in the town, were struggling thither. 
So he had considerable company. 

“That was obliging of you,” said the musketeer, cor- 
dially. 

“Sire, I am only doing my duty ” 

“Toward the King of Spain ?” 

“Toward the States of Portugal. I hope that, as the 
events are cast out of fate’s dice box, your majesty will 
bear in mind that I conducted myself with all the respect 
due your position.” 

“You assuredly conduct yourself like a true Portu- 
guese !” 

“Sire, believe me, if Lisbon had not been cowed into 
obeying the foreigners’ yoke — our nature, our spirit, our 
business, all resent being trodden on by the crowned 
viper’s hoof!” 

“Viper’s hoof is good I” 

“Look you, I was a leather supply factor before I had to 
turn to cloth dealing. Why? because the Spanish held 
back the soldier’s pay, notably the Portuguese, so that 
they went barefoot in summer and bound up their feet, 
like peasants, in any old rags, in the wet weather. Such 
policy was fatal to the leather trade I So I took up cloth 
working. But the insurrection breaking out, no one buys 
clothes ” 

“I should not have thought that !” 

“But, sire, who would buy what they can steal ?” 

“Who, indeed ! Is stealing so easy ?” 

“In war times, to be sure ! It is a warrant to behave 
like disorderly soldiers — the beggars stroll the streets and 
take down the frippery hung out to attract custom ; the 
highwaymen strip travelers ; the soldiers rob the fallen ; 
the wretches, who infest the ghetto and dwell outside the 
walls, strip the corpses — in a word, no one buys clothes I” 

“I see that, if I should reign, it would be over a people 
in aprons of fig leaves !” 

“So, I owe the Spaniard nothing — or, rather, so keen 
and close are they, they will not let me owe them any- 
thing ! The boot is on the other leg ; for I have my books 


The Last Card. 


296 

full of the officers’ accounts. Well, my fellow-townmen 
have treated me more creditably.” 

“They would.” 

“They made me a watchman, because I pulled the ears 
of a boy who tried to run away with my till. They made 
me a captain of the watch, a civic guard, a sergeant! 
Your majesty capped all by making me a captain !” 

“I said colonel — seeing your merit ” 

“Colonel is better — ^^but if you were to raise me to 
greater eminence ” 

“Why not ? I fear that modesty is your glaring defect ! 
To be commensurate with your deserts, a commandership 

of your town militia ” 

“Oh, you overload me, sire !” 

“I do not see why! what does the alien do? appoint 
aliens to the chief posts. Now, if I were ruling, I should 
amend all that ! A Lisbonite, respected by his fellows, 
who have known him from a babe, that is the man to com- 
pel order in the wards — he could rule with a simple cane 
in hand ” 

“The fact is, some men by their presence ” 

“The only drawback is that, in this tent,” moaned 

D’Artagnan, “I am without the power ” 

“Alas! But what is that hubbub?” 

“It is for you to learn, or shall I ” and the French- 

man easily moved toward the opening. 

The vacillating town guardsman spoke with the sentry 
at the doorway. 

“Why, sire, your squire has been stopped by the 

Spanish ” 

“Provoking!” 

“But he produced a paper and they ” 

“Let him pass?” 

“No ; a superior officer runs up and reads it ” 

“What can it be that Porthos is supplied with?” 

“Oh, it is an order to the citadel governor !” 

“My squire, with an order to ” 

“From the vice-queen; it bids him 'Capitulate!’ Oh, 
they will abandon the last post of the fort !” 

“Porthos is right! this is a land of magic!” muttered 
the musketeer, not having heard anything of Porthos’ ad- 
venture, and his saving Margarita of Savoy. 


The Last Card. 297 

Sergeant Diego had come to a conclusion. He 
wheeled round, not noticing that his prisoner was holding 
the bared sword. 

“This alters things ! Since the Spanish give up the last 
vestige of their hold, Lisbon belongs alone to the Lis- 
boneso.’’ 

“Admirable logic 

“Then, as chief of the town forces 

“I repeat it !” 

“I command here !” 

“Command, then !” 

“If only I knew what was happening in the town?” 

“The quickest way to ascertain is to go there ” 

“That is flat!” 

“And, since I am dying with curiosity, and you cannot 
wish your captive to die on your hands, take me with 
you !” 

“That solves it I Come, come, and lose no time !” 

“I precede you 1” cried D’Artagnan, leading the way out 
of the tent. 

Without a speech in the tongue he did not feel expert 
in, Porthos, assisted by some fishers who had added them- 
selves to the civic guards, had stirred up the perplexed 
soldiers. On seeing the brilliantly-bedizened musketeer 
emerge from the tent, these set up a welcom'ing cry. 

“To the town !” cried D’Artagnan, waving his sword. 

“To the town, fellow wardsmen !” said the sergeant, 
waving his sword. “It is in- the hands of the mob, and 
they are pillaging your stores !” 

At this touching appeal, the citizen soldiery waited no 
longer; they surrounded their leader, and the immense 
mass, in front of which was borne Porthos, unable to ap^ 
proach his friend, began to move toward the walls, with a 
front of two hundred, touching shoulders. 

Along this impenetrable line a Spanish officer rushed 
madly, trying to make himself heard. Annoyed by his 
eflForts, a dozen pikes threatened to pin him down, but 
Porthos, recognizing Don Jorge, thrust them aside with 
Balizarde, and said, while covering Count Marianda, sar- 
castically : 

“Keep to the right, my lord ; keep to the right V* 

So, pushed to the side, and forced to travel along the 


298 The Last Card. 

whole line, the colonel was left at the end in a cloud of 
dust. 

In the distance he saw the multitude racing for the 
walls, tossing caps, with the old Moors’ cry of, “Yah, ha !” 
and ^^vivas/* carrying D’Artagnan shoulder high, and 
shouting, with echoes on those walls and within them: 
“Long live Don Juan, our own king!” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE TRUE KING. 

“A cheat ! a strategem !” growled Don Jorge, following 
the disappearing host ; “that Gannarta I always suspected 
as deep — but that other, bluff and honest — a trickster ! I 
believe in nothing now ! Swords are toys when battles 
are fought with pens and masks and bags of gold V 

The walls and their towers were covered with whoop- 
ing men, glad faces, tossing arms with weapons sheathed ; 
banners, women’s kerchiefs, a kaleidoscopic vision of all 
colors in all shapes. If cannon and musketry commingled 
their dread din, it was harmlessly. Spanish and PortU' 
guese hugged frantically, and the publicans, who had 
been reserved for a time, opened their doors widely and 
rolled casks into the thoroughfares for everybody to 
drink the kind’s health. 

Count Marianda drearily moved among the carousers, 
as if his sword was broken in its case. 

Trumpets sounded merrily, drums were beaten lively, 
and the monks perambulated the streets in long files, with 
the churches’ choicest regalia, vociferating : 

“There is a king come to Israel !” 

“Why, the church has gone over !” said the one Abdiel 
in the flood of apostates. “I am descended from the 
Roman — I will run upon my sword !” 

“Hold I” It was Porthos w'ho laid his heavy hand on 
his sound arm. “Not on that sword, please ! it is mine— 
you are my prisoner, and, as such, your good blade is 
mine!” 

Thus he was conducted upon the palace square. On 
the partially thrown down walls, converted into a stage, 
gonfalon poles had been fixed by the Brothers of the 
Coast, and rigged so that they upheld a vast awning; 
most of the material was scarlet and gold. With the taste 
suitable to a bright sun, the decorations turned the plaza 
into a kind of open-air reception and coronation hall. If 
there had been any color wanted, it was supplied by the 


1 


300 The True King. 

throng. All the spectators had donned gala attire, and 
Heaven knows what wardrobes and lockers had been ran- 
sacked to provide old jewelry and variegated weavings to 
enliven the scejie. There were enough armed men mixed 
with the country nobility to show that this spectacle was 
the fruit of a civil war. 

The uninjured part of the palace had been given up to 
Luisa de Braganza, who appeared, with a number of 
ladies, her own friends, augmented by wives of local dig- 
nitaries, functionaries and officials, pledging them as host- 
ages for their good behavior to the new rule. 

The transfer of Lisbon to the substitute for Philip had 
been, on the whole, so bloodless, that no mourning flecked 
the gay and luxuriously-vested crowd. 

“Long live the queen !” was the hailing sound, as the 
proud and luminous princess stood out in full glare. 

Don Juan had been satiated with greetings. He was 
able to look around in a sort of leisure. At last he de- 
scried what he was seeking, “his” two Frenchmen ; but his 
smile was dampened by his spying Don Jorge between 
them. 

“Who is this ?” he demanded of D’Artagnan, as the lat- 
ter approached, under the inviting glance. 

Donna Jacinta, who was near her mistress, pale where 
the other blushed happily, shuddered, fearing her brother 
would show his unshaken loyalty offensively. 

“Count, you can put your case stronger than I,” said 
the musketeer to Porthos’ prisoner; “speak out! — masks 
and veils are cast off this day ! To-morrow, as the court 
will be in swing again, we must hold, with the stoic, that 
silence is the one virtue to cherish. Couch your speech 
prettily, for at the dawn of a reign all should be courtly.” 

The Count of Marianda stepped forward, and in a 
guarded tone, announced himself. 

At the title, which caused some emotion, Jacinta looked 
appealingly to the princess, who nodded encouragingly. 

“My ancestors accepted a fair defeat by the Spaniards, 
and ever since we have been true tO' the treaty made on the 
battlefield, where no shame mingled with our blood. I 
am aye faithful to King Philip, and I am opposed, as ever, 
to your exercising sway over my country !” 


The True King. 301 

‘‘My prisoner,” said Porthos, implying that there was 
no fear of his actually harming this new rule. 

“Pray, sire!” urged Jacinta, clasping her hands. 

“My lord count,” returned Braganza, full of joy, which 
tempered his usually stern voice, at this exchange of a 
ducal for a regal crown, “you are making a mistake — but 
this is a day of mistakes. Have I not had my similitude” 
— here he glanced roguishly at D’Artagnan — “as my an- 
cestor, the regretted Sefbastian, had his appear on our dear 
toiwn walls ? I see in you, not an officer of the king re- 
moved, but the brother of my queen’s most near and 
faithful servitor. To Donna Jacinta I owe, under the 
King of kings, much of the power to occupy this long-de- 
sired throne. But while she sustains her dear mistress, 
it is meet that you, with your good sword, should stand 
beside me as a supporter.” 

“I thank your majesty, but I can only say God save 
you I” and Jorge de Marianda turned coldly away. 

“What, do you reject my favor — my amity — ^my hand?” 
cried the king, not easily rebuffed on this day of pride. 

“My dread lord, I want no man’s favor — only this gen- 
tleman’s, whose prisoner I am 1 I want no man’s amity 
but his, since I am his slave I and I want no man’s hand 
but this!” — he grasped that of D’Artagnan — “by means 
of which I trust to lend my sword to his king. Never 
more shall it be drawn in Spain or Portugal. The hand 
which, as head of my line I can bestow, I give back to its 
owner — ^my sister can give it, in her own sweet will !” 

There was a grumbling murmur. Where all had been 
honey, the drop of gall was unpalatable. 

“God keep your majesty !” 

“Nay, gentlemen,” said Don Juan, “make way there, 
and salute that noble man ! We shall be right happy if he 
leaves many of his stamp behind !” 

The two musketeers set the example by saluting Don 
Jorge, so that he left the improvised court, after all, with 
a tribute to his constancy and respect for his oath of al- 
legiance, signal where recreants abounded. 

“He gave me my own hand,” muttered Jacinta, “but he 
did not throw me a look ! But,” added she, sorrowfully, 
“these men of the wars, they are wedded to their swords ! 
Oh, fie!’^ 


302 The True King. 

“Jacinta/^ interrupted the queen, “are you all alike in 
your iron-headed family ? Are you going to refuse me a 
boon as your brother has that of the king?’’ 

“Refuse your ladyshio anything 

“Sire,” said the beaming Luisa de Guzman, “I wish 
formally to present to your majesty the Chevalier de Gan- 
narta, to whose skill, devotion and prowess great help has 
been given to this blessed enthronement!” 

“I understand that, upon the sheaf of those services, 
you gained us valuable time by leading off the road those 
traitors who might have impeded the ascension I” 

“Sire,” replied the Gascon, at as much ease as before 
his own regiment on parade, where he knew every man, 
“I have no excuse for plaving the king but that, they say, 
your majesty suffered no degradation by the personation, 
since no one perceived its shortcomings.” 

“You risked your head I” 

“A soldier does that every day of his service I” 

“Gentlemen,” said the king, addressing a great audi- 
ence, for already the flock of high nobility was consider- 
able, “I ask you, and notably you, my royal lady, what 
does such daring and devotion deserve ?” 

“They are illimitable, sire I” answered Luisa ; “it is im- 
possible, even for a monarch, to recom-pense such 
deeds ” 

“Then we are all in a quandary I The owner of the 
pearl must price it! Don Luis de Gannarta, fix your 
price !” 

“You will have your castle — in Portugal !” whispered 
Porthos, red as a rose at his friend being duly appre- 
ciated, and forgetting any expectations of his own. 

“Illimitable, as the queen says,” went on Braganza, let- 
ting his eyes stray quizically upon the recalcitrant's sister 
and then back to D’Artagnan, “yet try !” 

“Faith !” and the Gascon looked embarrassed for once, 
“I am afraid that what I crave is out of the power of 
king and queen !” 

“Ah !” in surprise. 

“I see,” said the queen, merrily ; “it was not only the 
head that was at risk, but the heart !” The flame spread 
from Porthos to his friend, and Donna Jacinta caught the 


The True King. 303 

glow. “Unfortunately, while we can dispose of hands, 
we cannot bias hearts !” 

“I understand,” said the sovereign, with pretended sor- 
row and regret. “The King of Portugal is not going to 
be a tyrant. He may dispose of the kingdom’s treasure 
for its weal, its enlightenment and its defense, but never 
will he utter an order to suggest that he ruled over slaves 
whose lives and liberty and happiness were at his beck. 
Don Luis, you are in love. Love has a realm of his own 
— over his subjects 1 have no control!” 

“Love 1” repeated D’Artagnan, with his eyes twinkling, 
“I am not swayed by love I Sire, since I set foot in the 
Peninsula, I have been tormented by a demon — one I 
could never shake oif ! I wished to be a rigid soldier, a 
sage statesman in good time, losing no hour in caprices 
and even tender elegancies that the ladies like. 

“This unearthly creature has made me do the contrary 1 
It has glided through walls and fastened doors to bemuse 
my wits, make me renounce my vows as to celibacy, risk 
my soul, and blot out my future of an old soldier’s cell in 
the Military Monks’ Hospital I” 

His mock remorse drew a smile out on every counte- 
nance. 

“This spirit is the more dangerous as its form is that 
of a charming, intellectual and adorable woman I” 

“Yet you love her?” queried the king and his consort, in 
the same breath. 

“Love her, a demon?” ejaculated D’Artagnan, return- 
ing an imploring, but facetious glance upon the prelates 
interspersed with the courtiers, “I must hate her! and if 
I would endeavor to chain her with wedlock, it is because 
I could avenge myself upon her — leisurely, you under- 
stand ; as the Italians — epicures in the matter, say : ‘Re- 
venge is a dish to be eaten cold !’ ” 

“Are you sure it is a demon ?” asked the queen. 

“It is outlawed by the church— proof positive ! It is a 
waive !” 

A shudder ran through the assemblage, and some of the 
ladies left a wide space around Donna Jacinta. A church 
dignitary, old and reverend, whispered with the king. 

“It is evident,” said the latter, solemnly, “that a waive 
should not be permitted any longer to wander up and 


304 The True King. 

down the world to imperil poor humanity, tormented by 
sufficient frets and worries. Wherefore, we authorize the 
Sehor Don Luis de Gannarta to aprehend, for himself, 
and as captain-in-chief of our lifeguards, the human form 
of this said sprite, and by the aid of Holy Mother 
Qiurch, become its lifelong custodian !” 

Those of the audience not in the secret gazed around 
bewildered. 

“You are his prisoner, ‘Waive’ Jacinta de Floriador,” 
said the royal lady, pushing her blushing ward over 
toward D’Artagnan ; “beware I he is a redoubtable Chris- 
tian knight 1” 

“A knight of San Jano, of Portugal I” added the king, 
significantly. 

“Oh, your majesty, I shall try to defend myself. But,” 
sadiy added the noble damsel, “who will make the sacred 
transfer of a waive to a Christian knight?” 

“I,” said the feeble, but imposing voice of the prelate 
who had communed with Braganza. 

“Don Remiro, chief of the Holy Inquisition,” cried the 
entire gathering, bowing. 

“Zookers,” muttered Porthos, “this is the old friar- 
janitor of the convent whom I plucked out of that human 
carding mill !” 

“In the name of the Holy Father, Urban, whose legate 
I am to the court of Portugal, I absolve thee, child, from 
all onus and concomitances of the ban, inflicted upon thee 
by error. And I myself will perform the sacrament of 
marriage between you and your chosen bridegroom !” 

Retiring, he edged toward Porthos, to whom he darted 
a sly glance with his deep-set, keen, gray eyes, showing 
that he had as much wit as gratitude. 

“That was a good outlay of mine,” whispered the knight 
of Du Vallon to his delighted friend. “Those misguided 
nuns threw water over on my coat, but I can dry it at 
Hymen’s flambeau!” 

Pedro received confirmation of his admiralship, and 
other honors were conferred upon him. His disposition 
was not one to accord with courtiers ; he perished in an 
expedition to repel the savages invading a settlement at 
Cape Delgado. The Brothers of the Coast remained an 
organization as long as “the laws of Oleron” ruled, but 


The True King. 305 

never was their power recorded as making or undoing a 
kingdom. 

D’Artagnan was given an estate to justify his title of 
Gannarta, but he was more heartily pleased by a missive 
from Cardinal Richelieu, thanking him, in the king's 
name and his own, for his skill and success. For all of 
the premier's rule, Spain was checked by independent 
Portugal. 


E F I L O a- XJ E . 


When the happy musketeer went into the Royal Arms 
Hotel, he found his brother kingmaker at a table, writing 
— unwonted occupation ! 

The latter looked up, lost his frown in a smile, and, see- 
ing that lie had a printed paper in his hand, inquired : 

“Court news? — good?” 

“It is court news — ^but from the other court — of the 
Escurial. Never will Spain forgive us for making two 
bits of it and Portugal, as the Douro River does of Leon ! 
They cease to throw bullets' — the court poet is set to 
throwing paper pellets — but they are steeped in bitter- 
ness.” 

“You might read it — we are cloyed with sweets !” 

“ ‘Our neighbor now, our pride to balk, 

His idol fells of Spanish chalk; 

How long will last the new one, pray. 

Molded of Portugal’s dull clay?’ ” 

“Suppose he tries to overthrow it!” said the grandee, 
firing up like all new champions. 

“Oh, it will stand — its feet are of gold — French gold! 
But what are you doing? — writing home to announce 
your speedy return to Madame du Vallon? Well, it was 
a fine holiday Cardinal Richelieu gave you, all things 
counted !” 

“Oh, I have not finished my holiday,” returned the 
other, biting the feather end of the quill, embarrassed. “I 
am writing to tell her that I have to do the king the com- 
pliment of going to inspect the lands he gave me ! They 
say it well bolsters a grandee! One of those rogues had 
it, w'hom you saved from imprisoning this good king !” 

“The count by surprise ?” 

“I am going to surprise his — ^my tenants! They say 
that the figs grow as large as my fist, and the oranges as 
large as my head' — as my head was ; I suppose it has ex- 
panded lately.” 


Epilogue. 307 

“Never will your head be greater,” said D’Artagnan ; 
“it is your heart, dear friend, which enlarges perpetually !” 

“Oh,” added Porthos, checking his writing again, 
“what droll fellows those seatoen are !” and laughed. 

“Sometimes ! They call it a joke to capture Lisbon ! 
In what way are they funny as regards you ?” 

“It is that Don Pedro. He came to me to breakfast, 
and over the kahve, a new drink this hotelkeeper brewed 
in his honor, hearing that he had 'been landlord of an inn 
in his time, he said : 

“ ‘Brother Porthos, I am eager to do you or your 
friends at home a good turn, now I have command of the 
sea. Have you not an institution, useful to heirs tired of 
awaiting an inheritance, husbands fatigued with their bur- 
dens, nobles wearied of parasites — called Blank Sealed 
Royal Warrants ’ 

“ ‘Letters de cachet' said I ; ‘yes, they are useful T 

“ ‘Well,’ said the sly dog, ‘it is not this tender-hearted 
king here who will furnish such blanks, but his lord high 
admiral will do what he dare not. If you know of any 
such burden to be removed, why, get your overladen 
friend to bring it to the coast, and notify me. I will send 
a boat’s crew to take it off his shoulders and off shore ! I 
have a little the acquaintance of the Dey of Algiers. 
Poor dey ! The Turks gave him a trouncing, and he is 
but the sultan’s khedive, or deputy, at present. They car- 
ried away as tribute his slaves, and he has to grease his 
own boots and clean his own pipes now, and sing and 
dance to amuse his harem, reduced to one or two 
odalisques. He wants slaves of all kinds ! “The French 
baggage” will be welcome.’ ” 

“Gracious!” ejaculated the musketeer; “if Madame du 
Vallon were to come to the seashore to meet you half way, 
this unregenerate pirate ” 

“I thought of that,” said Porthos, simply, and sighing, 
he shook his head. “It would fail. As soon as M. the 
Dey saw her, and had a bit of her temper, he would send 
her back to the Vallon ! No, I shall prolong my holiday.” 

“Poor Pedro I it is written that we shall be beholden to 
him.” 

“As to all these others ! While they are genial, I am 
not going to hurry myself.” 


3o8 Epilogue. 

4 

‘^You need mot. The queen has given us an heir to the 
French throne ; but until ' Richelieu dies, what stirring 
times can we expect? Nevertheless, while all is quiet, 
with this clog upon the Spanish chariot going down hill— 
Portugal, I mean — in the minority of a prince — the 
workers of wickedness flourish. We shall be called back 
to France, so keep your sword bright.’^ 

“Swords, swords ! they may well say, Trompt to whip 
out as a Gascon !’ ” 

“Don’t you know our old custom in Gascony? They 
used to hurl old men and those who could not bear arms 
over the rocks into the gulf ! It was a shame to lead a 
peaceful life ! I am, I fear me, a true Gascon I”‘ 


THE END. 




L£Ag’ll 





I 




- ' ' • •' 'V' V', 1 * '•' 

, • *• ' ^ ' * M I ■ 4fr* .4 > ' ■.**/’•»'« ylr ^ i' 

■■ • • ^ .>■'• ' ' ^■‘>'' 'if ft" 


v( 


•H ; 






. ■ '4 


.■ i " t \ -,,_ 

'Sf'-'i'Tiii 


»i.» 


(i 


-i 


v 


f c 


r • 4 




i' 


r ■•'^ M'r.r- 







« I 


* % 


. t.' 




V 



r f 


'■’"•' .. 'i' 

^ '. M'v’ •; 


•. yy .:* 




*4 iT* 




• I.* a 


L " 

f r‘.:yN 




^•v 


>, , » , 1 « < 

k •' •' '' 

■ t ■ . • * ' . . ■ 


-r- t I* 




fi ’ 


V 'm biT 


I « 


'‘•'i ’.'ur*' 


U"^ V 


. *5 > '*' 

• •ii '. f - h 


‘. I* 


1 _ 
»rj 




» t V 

■'• ■ •! 


I 


<#* 


^4 vtfl 4 j 


fv 


't!' 


•> 


T (I 






^4i 




i 4 . * 

. . -I,’ I 


1 ' ■ 

•r, . 


• 'i 










. \ 






Aiwi' V -Mr 
s-' ' Kfn •• 


> $ 


•‘m 


V J 


- .'p.’-v 






^ 'I’j' *'' 


#■ 


'e-: ‘.'I 


vr 


' f. 


< .• > 


TVm 


• i-. 


r • 

‘I 






^ ‘ '- .!• f 




i; 






.t- 4 ^ 


7.' 










VV 

.VTu* . n.^ •. .»!-i 


!f^ 




t I 


s •< 






* . 


’*^1 


t • 




■ 




• ff 


i.v 


• iV.< 


V. 




v>, >. 


"■ ’’'f . ■■.■ 


, f 


» t 


m 


V. ■ 


> ' ' » 








If f 

■' V '■ l:K^ 

* ' • f'- V t 

V; ■■■,v<i;j 


. ■■>^»l-^Av .ini^4 .v 


ir. 


j. <■. 


•» I 




< *4^! ‘5 


-i .=- 


f, 


*'t 


‘fe ^ 


:fS! 


Wc'-- 












.=1 








